5182 
Ml 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


Richard  Petrie 


Arthur  W.  Pinero 


Sweet  Lavender 


A  COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


Walter  H.  Baker  6  Co.,  Boston 


<a.  W.  ^tnero'0  Wm 


THF  AMAZONS    ^*'"*'®  ^^  Three  Acts.    Seven  males,  five  females. 
Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery,  not  difficult.    Plays 
a  full  evening. 

THP  fARIVFT  MUtflCTPD  Farce  in  Four  Acts.  Ten  males,  nine 
lUC  WAOtnCl  fllinWlCH  females.  Costumes,  modern  society ; 
scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

DANDY  DICI^    Farce  in  Three  Acts.    Seven  males,  four  females. 
Costumes,  modern ;  scenery,  two  interiors.    Plays 
two  hours  and  a  half. 

THF  fiAY  LORD  ODEX    Comedy  in  Four  Acts.    Fovir  males,  ten 

^^  ^  "  females.    Costumes,  modem ;  scenery, 

two  Interiors  and  an  exterior.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

BIS  BocsE  IN  ORDER  ^::^''^ztT:J^:r;'^x 

three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THF  HORHY  HOfiSP    ^'^''^^^7  ^  Three  Acts.    Ten  males,  five 
^^  females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery  easy. 

Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 

IRIS    ^''^''^^  ^^  Five  Acts.    Seven  males,  seven  females.    Costumes, 
modem ;  scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

I  ADY  ROIINTIFIII  ^^^^  ***  ^""'^  ^^^^'  ^^^^  males,  seven  fe- 
I4  V  ^       VLt    Qjg^jgg     Costumes,  modem ;  scenery,  four  in- 

teriors, not  easy.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

I  pTTV  Drama  In  Four  Acts  and  an  Epilogue.  Ten  males,  five  fe- 
^  males.    Costumes,  modern ;  scenery  complicated.    Plays  a 

full  evening. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

l^altet;  1$.  OBafeer  S,  Compani? 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


SWEET  LAVENDER 


A  COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


BY 

ARTHUR   W.   PINERO 


All  right g  reserved.  Per formatue  forbidden, 
and  right  of  representation  reserved.  Applica- 
tion for  tfte  right  of  performing  this  piece  must 
be  made  to  the  publishers. 


BOSTON 


COPTBIGHT,   1893,  BY 

ARTHUR    W.    PINERO 


All  Righta  Reaervtd 


pf? 


THE   PERSONS   OF  THE  PLAY. 


Horace  Bream  (a  young  American). 

Geoffrey   Wedderburn   (of  Wedderbum,  Green 
&  Hoskett,  Bankers,  Barnchester). 

Clement  Hale  (his  adopted  son,  studijing  for  the 
Bar). 

Richard  Phenyl  (a  Barrister). 

Dr.  Delaney  (a  fashionable  Physician). 

Mr.  Bulger  (Haiixlresser  and  Wigmaker). 

Mr.  Maw  (a  Solicitor). 

Minnie  Gilfillian  {Niece  of  Mr.  Wedderburn). 

Ruth  Rolt  {Housekeeper  and  Laundress  at  No.  3, 
Brain  Court,  Temple). 

Lavender  (her  daughter). 

Mrs.  Gilfillian  (a  ividow —  Wedderbum's  sister 
—  Minnie's  mother). 


906:^:m 


THE   FIKST  ACT. 
Morning.     ''Nobody's  Business." 


THE   SECOND   ACT. 

Evening  of  the  Next  Day.     "  Somebody's 
Business." 


THE   THIRD  ACT. 
A  Week  Later.     "Everybody's  Business." 


SCENE. 
Chambers   of  Mr.   Phenyl   and   Mr. 
Br  am    Court,    Temple,   London. 
The  Present  Day. 


Hale,  No.  3, 
Springtime. 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE. 


The  author  of  "  Sweet  Lavender  "  begs  to  remind  his  Am- 
erican patrons — amongst  whom  there  may  be  those  who  are 
unfamiliar  with  the  mode  of  life  he  attempts  to  depict  in  this 
play  —  that  a  set  of  chambers  in  the  precincts  of  the  Temple, 
though  constituting  only  a  portion  of  a  house,  is  a  distinct  and 
separate  establishment.  Each  set  of  chambers  has  an  inde- 
pendent door  opening  upon  a  common  stairway,  behind  which 
door  the  occupant  of  the  chambers  is  as  much  the  lord  of  a 
castle  as  if  he  were  in  enjoyment  of  a  mansion  or  a  villa  sur- 
rounded by  a  brick  wall. 

"  Chambers  "  consist  of  three  or  four  rooms,  and  perhaps  a 
pantry,  and  are  often  shared  by  two  boon  companions.  The 
female  domestic  attached  to  the  house  — who  flits,  not  unlike 
the  busy  bee,  from  floor  to  floor  — is,  in  the  phraseology  of 
Temple  life,  called  the  "  Laundress  ;  "  and  if,  like  Ruth  Rolt, 
she  dwells  upon  the  premises,  she  enjoys  the  further  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  "  Housekeeper." 

The  man  who  shelters  in  the  Temple  precincts  obtains  a 
silent  security  from  the  conventionalities  of  society.  He  is 
untrammelled,  uncriticised,  unobserved  ;  and  while  he  pursues 
the  career,  either  of  a  devoted  student  or  an  ardent  Bohe- 
mian, the  oaken  door  which  closes  upon  his  rooms  shuts  him  off 
from  the  world  as  conclusively  as  if  he  were  a  monk  in  a  cell. 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

"  Sweet  Lavender"  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  successful  stage-plays  of  modern  times,  and  there 
can  be  no  question  that  it  has  proved  so  far  the  most 
popular  of  Mr.  Pinero's  works.  Its  representations  may 
be  counted  by  the  thousand,  and  its  popularity  has  exten- 
ded over  many  latitudes.  The  reason  of  this  is  not  far  to 
seek  ;  it  proclaims  itself  in  the  gentle  humanity  and  genial 
humour  of  the  play,  and  the  lovable  creation  of  the  golden- 
hearted,  weak-natured,  down-at-heel  Dick  Phenyl.  The 
very  simplicity  and  unpretentiousness  of  this  domestic 
comedy  have  apparently  disarmed  any  antagonistic  criti- 
cism which  might  have  been  expected  from  those  critics  of 
cynical  temper  and  pessimistic  mood  who  are  wont  to  look 
for  the  stern  realities  of  life  even  in  the  most  purposely  ge- 
nial of  theatrical  entertainments.  And  if  these,  in  view  of 
the  preponderance  of  kindly  human  nature  in  the  play,  elect 
to  regard  "Sweet  Lavender"  as  a  sort  of  modern  fairy- 
tale rather  than  an  actual  and  realistic  study  of  life,  cer- 
tainly no  one  would  be  more  ready  to  agree  with  them 
than  Mr.  Pinero  himself.  He  avowedly  designed  the 
piece  as  a  pleasant  entertainment,  and  the  proof  that  he 
accomplished  his  purpose  is  the  fact  of  the  phenomenally 
successful  career  of  the  work  all  over  the  world.  Had 
Mr.  Pinero  in  the  early  months  of  1888  written  a  play  of 
the  order  of  "  The  Second  Mrs.  Tanqueray"  for  Terry's 

5 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

Theatre,  the  result  would  in  all  probability  have  been 
disaster. 

"  Sweet  Lavender"  was  first  produced  on  Wednesday 
evening,  March  21st,  1888,  and  was  from  the  first  re- 
ceived with  so  much  enthusiasm  that  at  once  the  play- 
going  public  began  to  flock  to  Terry's  Theatre.  Mr. 
Pinero's  comedy,  in  fact,  drew  the  town,  Mr.  Edward 
Terry's  Dick  I'henyl  became  almost  a  household  word,  and 
the  play  held  its  place  in  the  programme  continuously  until 
January  25th,  1890,  by  which  date  it  had  been  performed 
as  many  as  683  times.  But  this  was  not  the  end  of  its 
career  at  Terry's  Theatre,  for,  after  Mr.  Edward  Terry's 
holiday  trip  to  India,  the  actor-manager  signalised  his 
return  by  a  revival  of  "  Sweet  Lavender"  on  October  4th, 
1890,  and  between  that  date  and  November  26th  of  the 
same  year,  54  performances  were  given,  bringing  the 
number  of  representations  at  this  house  up  to  737. 

The  following  copy  of  the  first  night's  programme  of 
the  original  production  at  Terry's  will  be  interesting  for 
future  reference :       

TERRY'S    THEATRE, 

105  &  106  STRAND. 
SoLB  Lessbb  and  Managbr,  Mr.  Edwakd  TmKT« 


WEDNESDAY,  MARCH  21,  1888, 
FOR  THE  FIRST  TIME, 
An  Original  Domestic  Drama,  in  Three  Acts,  entitled 

SWEET  LAVENDER, 

BV 

A.  W.  PINERO. 

6 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 


Mr.  Geoffrey  Wedderburn  (of 
Wedderburn,  Green  &  Hoskett, 
Bankers,  Barnchester) 

Clement  Hale  (his  adopted  Son, 
studying  for  the  Bar)  . 

Dr.  Delaney  (a  fashionable  Phy- 
sician)        ..... 

Dick  Phenyl  (a  Barrister)     . 

Horace  Bream  (a  young  American) 

Mr.  Maw  (a  Solicitor)   . 

Mr.  Bulger  (Hairdresser  and  Wig- 
maker)        .         .         .         .         • 

Mrs.  Gilfillian  (a  Widow  —  Mr. 
Wedderburn's  Sister) 

Minnie  (her  Daughter)  . 

Ruth  Rolt  (Housekeeper  and 
Laundress  at  3  Brain  Court, 
Temple)      ..... 

Lavender  (her  daughter) 


Mr.  Brandon  Thomas. 
Mr.  Bernard  Gould. 


Mr.  Alfred  Bishop. 
Mr.  Edward  Terry. 
Mr.  F.  Kerr. 
Mr.  Sant  Matthews. 

Mr.  T.  C.  Valentine. 

Miss  M.  A.  Victor. 
Miss  Maude  Millett. 


Miss  Carlotta  Addison 

Miss  NORREYS. 


ACT  I. 

NOBODY'S  BUSINESS. 

Morning. 

INTERVAL  OF  TEN  MINUTES. 


ACT   II. 

SOMEBODY'S  BUSINESS. 
Evening  of  the  next  day. 

INTERVAL  OF  TWELVE  MINUTES. 

7 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

ACT   III. 

EVERYBODY'S  BUSINESS. 

A  week  afterwards. 


Scent :  Chambers  of  Mr.  Phenyl  and  Mr.  Hale,  3  Brain  Courts 

Tetn/ile. 

SPRINGTIME  — THE  PRESENT  DAY. 

SCENE    DESIGNED    AND    PAINTED    BY    T.   W.   HALL. 


Mr.  T.  W.  Robertson,  who,  as  a  manager  and  actor  of 
considerable  provincial  experience,  was  prompt  to  recog- 
nise the  certain  popularity  of  *'  Sweet  Lavender  "  with  the 
immense  playgoing  public  outside  the  metropolis,  at  Christ- 
mas 1888  commenced  a  series  of  provincial  tours  with 
Mr.  Pinero's  play,  and  these  tours  lasted  until  November 
5th,  1 891,  697  performances  having  been  given  in  the 
meanwhile.  Since  then  other  travelling  companies  have 
performed  the  play  many  hundred  times  all  over  the 
United  Kingdom,  and  it  finds  a  continuously  appreciative 
pubUc. 

In  America  Mr.  Pinero's  famous  comedy  has  become  a 
stock  piece,  and  its  representations  have  been  countless 
since  Mr.  Daniel  Frohman  first  produced  it  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre,  New  York.  Australia  has  also  taken  very 
kindly  to  the  play,  which  was  first  introduced  to  Antipo- 
dean audiences  by  Mr.  Frank  Thornton,  and,  during 
Mr.  Edward  Terry's  recent  visit  to  the  colony,  "  Sweet 
Lavender  "  was  naturally  expected  from  him  as  its  original 

8 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

producer,  and  it  was  received  with  enthusiasm  at  his 
hands.  In  South  Africa  it  has  also  enjoyed  frequent 
representation;  in  the  West  Indies  it  has  been  much  in 
favour;  and  Mr.  Thornton  will  shortly  take  the  play  to 
India. 

But  "  Sweet  Lavender,"  like  "The  Profligate  "and  "  The 
Magistrate,"  has  appealed  beyond  the  English-speaking 
body  of  playgoers  to  those  of  the  Teutonic  and  Italian 
tongues.  It  has  been  very  frequently  performed  in  Ger- 
many in  an  adaptation  which  eliminates  the  sentimental 
interest  to  a  large  extent  and  lays  greater  stress  on  the 
comic  ;  while  the  Italian  stage  knows  it  also  by  a  version 
from  the  pen  of  a  well-known  Italian  writer.  Further- 
more, "Sweet  Lavender"  was  recently  acted  in  Russia 
by  a  company  organised  for  the  purpose  of  presenting 
English  plays  in  that  country. 

Malcolm  C.  Salaman. 

October,  1893. 


SWEET    LAVENDER 


THE   FIRST  ACT 

The  scene  is  the  comfortably  furnished  sittinr/-room 
of  some  baiTisters'  chambers  at  3  Brain  Court, 
Temple.  On  the  spectator's  left  and  right  are 
the  doors  leading  respectively  to  the  bedrooms  of 
EicHARD  Phenyl  and  Clement  Hale.  At  the 
further  end  of  the  room;  on  the  left,  is  a  cur- 
tained opening  leading  into  a  kind  of  passage, 
where  a  butler'' s  tray  stands.,  and  facing  the 
outer  door  of  the  chambers.  The  corresponding 
part  of  the  room,  xvhere  the  windows  look  on  to 
the  Court,  forms  a  kind  of  recess  curtained  off 
from  the  rest. 

It  is  a  bright  spring  morning. 

Ruth  Rolt,  a  slim,  delicate-looking  woman  of  about 
35,  with  a  sweet  face  and  a  sad  soft  voice,  humbly 
but  very  neatly  dressed,  is  laying  the  breakfast 
things  upon  the  table. 

Bulger,  a  meek  bald-headed  man,  carrying  a  little 
old  leather  bag,  a  brass  pot  of  hot  water,  and, 
some  clean  towels,  enters  quietly. 

Bulger. 
I've  give  Mr.  'Ale  a  nice  shave,  Mrs.  Rolt  —  clean 

5 


6  SWEET  LAVENDER 

and  quick.     Water's  'ot  enough  for  me  jist  to  run 
over  Mr.  Phenyl's  face  if  'e's  visible. 

Ruth. 

I'm  afraid  Mr.  Phenyl  isu't  well  enough  for  you 
this  morning,  Mr.  Bulger. 

Bulger. 

Not  one  of  'is  mornin's,  hey  ? 

[Ruth  goes  to  the    right-hand   door  and 
knocks  sharply. 

Ruth. 

ICalling.']     Mr.    Phenyl!      Mr.    Phenyl!      The 

barber. 

Bulger. 

[^Mildly  behind  his  hand.']     'Airdresser. 

Ruth. 
Hairdresser.     [  With    a    Tnournful   shake  of  the 
head.]     No  use. 

Bulger. 

Well,  Mrs.  Rolt,  I  do  wonder  at  a  sooperior  young 
gentleman  like  Mr.  'Ale  stoopin'  to  reside  with  one 
of  Mr.  Phenyl's  sort. 

Ruth. 
[^Firing  up.]     What  do  you  mean  ?     One  of  Mr. 
Phenyl's  sort  I 

Bulger. 

I  mean  a  person  who's  seen  staggerin'  'ome  with 
uncertain  footfalls  at  all  hours  of  the  mornin',  and 
can't  'old  up  his  'ead  for  shavin'  more  than  twice  a 
week. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  7 

EUTH. 

I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Mr.  Hale  finds  something 
to  like,  something  to  respect  in  Mr.  Phenyl,  with 

all  his  faults. 

Bulger. 

P'raps  so.  But  to  reflect  that  Mr.  'Ale  used  to 
be  such  a  swell,  as  the  say  in'  goes,  over  in  Pear 
Tree  Court ;  and  then,  three  weeks  back,  to  come 
'ere  and  take  up  with  the  untidiest  chin  in  the 
Inner  Temple  —  it's  bewilderin'. 

Ruth. 

ITmpatientbj.']  Oh  !  [  Walks  iq)  to  the  window, 
where  she  stands  waiting  for  Bulger  to  go.~\ 

Bulger. 
[  With  a  sigh.']     Good  mornin',  Mrs.  Rolt. 

KUTH. 

[  Without  fuming.']     Good  morning. 

[Bulger,  on  his  wat/  to  the  door,  pauses, 
deposits  his  brass  pot  and  towels  o?i  the 
table,  then  opens  his  hag  mournfully. 

EuTH. 
[  Turning  with  surprise.']     Mr.  Bulger  ! 

Bulger. 
I'm  still  'oping,  Mrs.  Eolt. 

EuTH. 
It's  good  to  be  hoping   for   something  in  this 
world,  Mr.  Bulger. 


8  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Bulger. 

[^Taking  a  piece  of  paper  out  of  his  hag  and  ad- 
vancing towards  Ruth.]  My  affection  for  you  has 
now  took  poetic  form,  ma'am.  Will  you  accept 
the  heartiest  effort  ? 

Ruth. 
No,  thank  you.     I  — 

Bulger. 

Think,  Mrs.  Rolt.  When  it  comes  to  poetry  it 
comes  to  something.  I,  Edmund  Bulger,  widower, 
have  loved  you,  Mrs.  Ruth  Rolt,  widow,  ever  since 
you  fust  set  foot  in  the  Temple,  fifteen  years  ago, 
a-bearing  your  two-year-old  baby  in  your  arms, 
ma'am. 

Ruth. 

\_Pained.']     Don't  —  don't. 

Bulger. 

I  was  the  fust  wot  ever  put  scissors  to  your  little 
Lavender's  silky  head,  Mrs.  Rolt. 

Ruth. 
Yes,  I  know  that. 

Bulger. 
And  I've  had  the  'andlin'  of  your  tresses  too  — 
ay,  and  the  singein'  of  'em  —  till  I  found  I  loved 
you  too  fond  to  do  your  'air  what  I  call  justice. 
\Ghoniily  offering  his  verses.']  And  now  it's  come 
down  to  poetry. 

Ruth. 
\_Tuming  away.]     It's  no  good,  indeed. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  9 

Bulger. 

\SuTveying  the  paper  doubtfully. '\  It  ain't  much 
good,  but  intellectually  it's  my  all,  ma'am.  You 
won't  ? 

Ruth. 

No,  Mr.  Bulger,  please. 

Bulger. 

\_Putt'ing  away  the  paper  and  talcing  xip  his 
things.']  Adjourned  shie  die,  ma'am.  \_Turning 
solemnly.']  I  take  leave  for  to  mention  that  Mr. 
Justice  Tyler's  noo  wig  which  I  sent  'ome  yester- 
day nips  him  at  the  nap  o'  the  neck.  Also  that  I 
cut  Mr.  Fritchett,  the  emment  Q.C.'s  chin,  in  his 
own  chambers  yesterday ;  a  mole  as  I've  skipped 
over  these  ten  years  like  a  gladsome  child.  I  don't 
want  to  make  a  mountain  out  of  a  mole,  Mrs.  Rolt, 
but  these  facts  denote  the  failin'  'and,  ma'am. 
Good  mornin'. 

\_As  Bulger  is  going  there  is  a  knock  at  the 
outside  door,  which  he  opens,  and  admits 
Dr.  Delanev,  a  genial  old  Irish  gentle- 
man with  silvery-grey  hair  and  whiskers. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Thank  ye — I'm  much  obliged  to  ye.  I'm  call- 
ing on  Mr.  Hale.  [Bulger  goes  out.']  Is  it  Mrs. 
Rolt? 

Ruth. 
Yes,  sir. 

Dr.  Delanet. 
I'm  Doctor  Delaney.     I've  just  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  your  daughter  downstairs  in  the  kitchen 
—  in  the  basement. 


10  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Ruth. 
My  daughter  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

The  fact  is  I'm  a  friend  of  Mr.  Hale's,  and  when 
I  met  him  a  night  or  two  back  at  a  little  party,  he 
told  me  that  the  child  of  his  laundress  —  of  the 
lady  who  moinds  the  house  where  he  has  chambers 
—  was  looking  a  little  peaky,  and  that  if  ever  I 
was  near  the  Temple  — 

Ruth. 

Oh,  how  good  of  Mr.  Hale  ! 

Dii.  Delaney. 

Oh,  deloightful  of  him. 

Ruth. 

\_Gratefully .~\     And  you  too,  Doctor. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

{^Taking  her  two  hands  in  his  for  a  moment.'] 
Don't  speak  of  it  —  not  a  bit.  Mr.  Hale  isn't  out 
of  his  bed  yet,  I  take  it  ? 

Ruth. 
Yes,  Doctor,  he'll  breakfast  in  a  minute. 

[^She  goes  to  a  door  and  knocks. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
[To  himself.']     Now  I  wonder  whether  this  boy 
is  smitten  with  the  bit  of  a  girl  downstairs.     Ah  ! 
thank  goodness,  it's  no  business  of  mine  J 

Ruth. 
^Knocking  again.]     Mr.  Hale  I 


SWEET  LAVENDER  il 

Clement. 
\In  his  room.']     Yes  ? 

Ruth. 

Dr.  Delaney,  please. 

Clement. 
[^Calling.']     Oh,  thank  you.     I'm  coming. 

[Ruth  continues  laying  the  table. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[To  himself.']  It  would  be  a  great  disappoint- 
ment to  Wedderburn  the  banker  if  the  lad  he's 
adopted  did  anything  absurd.  But,  thank  good- 
ness, it's  no  business  of  mine. 

Ruth. 

Don't  you  think  my  girl  is  looking  very  pale. 
Doctor  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Ah,  don't  worry  yourself  now.  It's  the  air  of  the 
Temple.  She's  a  white  chrysanthemum  instead 
of  a  pink  one.     Your  daughter's  strong  enough. 

Ruth. 

Bless  you  for  telling  me  that !  My  Sweet  Lav- 
ender ! 

Dr.  Delaney. 

You're  a  little  pale  yourself  now. 

Ruth. 
/—  oh,  I've  had  trouble. 


12  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dr.  Dklaney. 
Ah,  you're  a  widow,  I'm  sorry  to  hear,  Mrs.  Rolt. 

Ruth. 

Yes,  Doctor. 

Dr.  Delanet. 

\_To  himself. ~\  And  you're  right  about  the 
trouble  you've  had  if  I'm  any  judge  of  faces. 
[^Sadly.~\  Thank  goodness,  it's  no  business  of 
mine.  [To  Ruth.']  Have  you  been  alone  a  long 
while  ? 

Ruth. 

\_Coldly.']  I  lost  Lavender's  father  before  she 
was  born. 

Dr.  Delanet. 

Ah,  that's  a  pity  now, 

Ruth. 

And  she's  all  I  have  in  the  world,  Doctor.  In 
fact,  she's  myself.  At  times  I  think  she's  as  old 
as  I,  or  I  as  young  as  she.  I  feel  her  smile  on  my 
face,  and  the  pains  and  aches  I  suffer  go  to  her 
young  bones.  When  she  is  poring  over  her  lessons 
at  night  I  am  sure  my  eyes  smart,  for  it  — 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Her  lessons  !     What  lessons  are  those  ? 

Ruth, 

She's  a  little  backward,  and  works  hard  with  her 
books  in  the  evening !  Mr.  Hale  has  been  good 
enough  to  help  her. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  13 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Oh,  has  he  ?    And  she's  very  fond  of  her  books  — 
have  ye  noticed  ? 

Ruth. 
Yes,  very. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Then  the  only  thing  I've  got  to  recommend  is 
this  —  that  ye'U  put  a  stop  to  the  lessons  for  six 
months  or  so. 

Ruth. 

Very  well,  Doctor.     Poor  Lavvy ! 

Dr    Delaney. 

\To  himself.']     I've  hit  it.     Oh,  thank  goodness, 
this  is  no  business  of  mine  ! 

Clement  Hale  enters.  He  is  a  handsome  boyish 
young  man  of  about  three  and  twenty,  immacu- 
lately dressed  in  a  fashionable  dressing  suit. 


Dr.  Delaney  ! 
Mee  dear  boy ! 


Clement. 
Dr.  Delaney. 


Clement. 

They  call  you  a  fashionable  physician,  and  you're 
found  in  the  City  at  ten  in  the  morning. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Mee  dear  boy,   I'll  let  you  into  a  secret  —  we 
can't    get   human    ailments   to   keep    fashionable 
hours. 


14  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Clement. 
\Lieadin(j   him    over   to    the    armchair. '\      Best- 
hearted  and  best-humoured  creature  in  London,  sit 
in  the  best  chair. 

Ruth. 

[To  Clement.]  Dr.  Delaney  has  seen  Lavender. 
I  —  I  can't  thank  you. 

Clement. 

\_Smilinff.']  Please,  don't.  [With  assumed  care- 
lessness, to  Delaney.]  What  do  you  think  of  the 
child  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[Hesitatingly.']  Oh  —  she's  been  increasing  her 
knowledge  a  little  too  rapidly,  that's  all. 

Ruth. 

Lavender  has  to  give  up  her  lessons  for  six 
months,  the  Doctor  says.    Isn't  it  a  pity,  Mr.  Hale? 

[Ruth  goes  out. 
Clement. 

Give  lip  her  lessons  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Now,  it's  no   good  overloading  the  brain   of   a 
young  girl.     Now,  is  it  ? 

Clement. 
[Carelessly  turning  aivay.~\     No,  no. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[To  himself.]  No,  nor  the  heart  neither.  Good 
gracious  !  Here's  poor  Wetlderburn  travelling 
abroad  in  happy  ignorance,  and  it's  nobody's  busi- 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  15 

ness   to   look   after  the  boy  he  loves    like  a  son. 
Well,  it's  not  my  business  at  any  rate. 

[^There  is  the  sudden  sound  of  the  fall  of 
some  heavy  object  in  the  adjacent  room. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

What's  that  now  ? 

Clement. 
That  ?     Oh,  that's  Dick. 

Dk.  Delaney. 

Dick,  is  it  ? 

Clement. 
Mr.   Richard  Phenyl,  barrister-at-law.     I  share 
his  chambers.     Dick's  dressing. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Dropped  his  waistcoat. 

Clement. 

Poor  Dick !  If  you  saw  him  I  dare  say  you'd 
be  shocked  at  my  making  a  companion  of  a  man 
like  Dick  Phenyl. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Dear  me  ! 

Clement. 

But  I  know  what  good  there  is  in  old  Dick,  and 
how  the  good  burns  clearer  and  brighter  in  his 
slovenly  person  than  in  many  who've  had  luck  and 
love  and  luxury  in  their  lives  —  which  Dick  hasn't. 
I  shall  pull  him  round  yet.     Like  to  know  him  ? 


I6  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dr.  Delanet. 
I  loike  to  know  everybody. 

Clement. 

\Optning   the   door  sli(jhtly.'\     Dick  !     \_To   De- 

LANEY.]     Yoii  won't  see  him  to  advantage.     I  was 

busy  last  night,  and  he  ran  off  the  rails  a  little. 

Dick!     [^Turning  away  from  the  door.']     All  right. 

Dick  Phenyl  enters  and  walks  unsteadily  towards 
Clement.  Dick  is  a  shattered  and  dissolute- 
looking  man  of  about  five  and  forty,  with 
shaggy  iron-grey  hair  and  ragged  ivhiskers  — 
a  pale  and  cadaverous  face,  and  a  suggestion  of 
redness  about  the  nose.  lie  wears  the  wreck 
of  a  once  gaudy  smoking  jacket,  ivhich  hangs 
loosely  upon  him,  and  his  appearance  has  gen- 
erally a  down-at-heel  appearance.  But,  with 
all,  he  ])resents  the  remains  of  a  gentleman, 
and  —  after  he  has  recovered  himself —  liis 
manner,  though  eccentric,  is  refined  and  good- 
humoured. 

Dick. 

Clemen',  my  boy  —  good  mor'ing. 

■     Clement. 
\_Reproachfidly.  ]     Hallo,  Dick,  Hallo ! 

Dick. 

I  know  wha'  you  infer,  Clemen'.     I'm   a  little 
late  in  falling  —  I  mean,  in  rising,  this  mor'ing. 

Clement. 

[  With  mock  severity.]     A  little  early  in  going  to 
bed  this  morning,  Mr.  Phenyl. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  \^ 

Dick. 
Clemen',  my  boy,  you're  so  unreasonable.  I  had 
an  imporrant  appointment  at  the  "  Steak  and  Tur- 
bot,"  in  Flee'  Street  —  a  very  old-established  inn, 
Clemen'  —  Doc'or  Johnson  and  all  that  sor'  o'  thing. 
I'm  none  the  worse  for  it,  Clemen'. 

Clement. 
Are  you  any  the  better  ? 

Dick. 

I'm  about  the  same,  Clemen'. 

Clement. 
Let  me  introduce  my  friend,  Doctor  Delaney. 

Dick. 

Wha'  nonsense — Doc'or  Johnson. 

Clement. 
Doctor  Delaney. 

Dick. 
\To  Delaney.]     I  beg  your  par'on — I  didn't 
perceive  you  when  I  firs'  came  in. 

\_He  walks  rather  unsteadily  to  Delaney, 
shakes  hands  with  him,  then  sits  on  the 
sofa. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Delighted    to    make    your    acquaintance,    Mr. 
Phenyl. 

Dick. 

Than'g  yoa.     "Were  you  here   when  you  heard 
that  noise  in  q«x'  room  ? 


l8  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dr.  Delanby. 

I  heard  a  noise. 

Dick. 

The  pattern  on  my  berroin  carpet  —  dam'  'noy- 
ing.  I  had  that  carpet  turned  las'  week,  borrom 
upwards  —  still  dam'  'noying  pattern.  Different 
pattern,  but  pattern.     Trip  up  anybody. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[To  Clement.]  I  happen  to  have  a  little  some- 
thing in  my  pocket  that'll  pull  him  together. 

Clement. 
Give  it  him,  for  heaven's  sake. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
I  want  a  tumbler. 

Dick. 

Tum'ler !     Tum'ler ! 

[Dick    goes    rapidly   to   the    sideboard    and 
fetches  a  tumbler  and  a  decanter  of  spirits. 

Clement. 

\_Qmetly.~\     Look  out. 

[Delaney  takes  the  tumbler  and  decanter 
from  Dick,  and  hands  the  decanter  to 
Clement,  ivho  replaces  it  on  the  side- 
board. Retaining  the  tumbler,  Delaney 
measures  into  it  some  drops  from  a  phial 
he  has  taken  from  his  pocket. 

Dick. 
\_Mystified.']     Perfec'  conjuring  trick. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  19 

Clement. 
\Offering  a  carafe  of  water.']     Water  ? 

Dick. 
IQuickly.']     Ver'  little ! 

[Delanet  po^irs  some  water  into  the  tum- 
bler, then  gives  it  to  Dick. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Swallow  that,  now. 

Dick. 
Not  spirits,  I  hope  —  at  this  hour  o'  the  mor'ing  ? 

Dr.  Delanet. 
No,  no. 

Dick. 

[^Aniwyed.']     Why  not  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

That's  a  blessed  antidote  to  the  voilest  poison 
the  devil  ever  put  his  red  seal  on  —  I  allude  to 
Scotch  whiskey,  not  Irish. 

Dick. 

Wha'  nonsense  —  blessed  anecdote. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Come,  come,  drink  my  health,  sor. 

Dick. 

[Thicklij.'\     "The  Queen!" 

[Dick  drinks  the  contents  of  the  tumbler^ 
then  coughs  and  splutters. 


so  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dr.  Delanet. 
How's  tliat,  now  ? 

Dick. 

Wants  keeping  another  year  at  least.     Oh ! 

[Dick  xorlthes  a  little  as  if  in  pain,  then 
sits  on  the  sofa  and  buries  his  head  in 
his  hands. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
He's  all  right.     I'm  off. 

Ruth  enters  with  a  tray. 

Clement. 
You  won't  breakfast  with  us,  Dr.  Delaney  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

God  bless  ye  for  asking  me,  but  I'm  very  busy 
over  this  new  hobby  of  mine.  You've  heard  of  it  ? 
"  The  Home  of  Forgetfulness  ! " 

Clement. 
«  The  Home  of  Forgetfulness  !  "     What's  that  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

It's  a  new  home  I've  endowed  for  a  hundred  soft- 
hearted women  who  are  willing  to  put  themselves 
at  my  beck-and-call  to  nurse  the  sick  and  the  ailin', 
rich  and  poor.  I  shall  be  the  commander-in-chief 
with  a  trained  army  at  my  own  barracks. 

Clement. 
And  you  do  all  this  alone  ? 


SWEET  LAVENDER  21 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Ah,  why  not  ?  Some  of  us  so-called  fashionable 
physicians  have  made  so  much  money  out  of  those 
who  haven't  anything  the  jnatter  with  'em  that  it's 
hard  if  we  can't  do  a  little  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  have. 

Clement. 

But  why  "  The  Home  of  Forgetfulness  "  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Because  it's  only  by  a  bed  of  sickness  that  many 
a  woman  can  forget  the  trouble  and  pain  and  dis- 
appointment this  wurrld  has  brought  her.  [^Taking 
Clement's  hand.']     God  bless  ye,  mee  boy. 

Clement. 

God  bless  yoxi,  Doctor  Delaney  !  I  wish  more  of 
us  were  like  you. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Go  along,  now.  Good-bye.  [^Looking  at  Clement, 
then  at  Dick.]     Ah,  it's  no  business  of  mine. 

\_He  bustles  out,  brushing  past  Ruth. 

Ruth. 

\_Under  her  breath  to  Delaney  as  he  passes  her."] 
Doctor ! 

[He  passes  through  the  passage.    She  following 
him. 

Clement. 
[^Calling  after  Delaney.]     Good-bye  I 


33  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dr.  Delanet. 

\In  the  distance.']     Good-bye. 

[Dick  havirif/  roused  himself  with  a  shake  and 
a  shiver,  looks  up,  blinking  his  eyes,  his 
drunkenness  gone. 

Dick. 

Clem  \jgoing  to  the  table  and  lifting  up  the  dish- 
cover] —  Sweetbread  —  we  haven't  had 
breakfast.     \_Calling.]     Clem! 

[Clemknt  c/o.se.s  the  passage  door,  arid  draiv- 
ing  the  curtain  over  the  opening,  comes  to 
the  table. 

Clement. 
Hallo ! 

Dick. 

\_Severely.']     You're   always   late   for  breakfast, 
Clement. 

Clement. 

\_Putting  his  hand  on  Dick's  shoulder  and  survey- 
ing him.]  Delaney  understands  your  case,  evidently, 

Dick. 
Delaney  ? 

Clement. 

That  was  Cormack  Delaney,  the  dear  old  doctor 
of  Wigmore  Street. 

Dick. 

Oh  !     I  wish  you  had  introduced  me.     Shall  we 
toss  for  the  armchair  as  usual  ? 


SWEET  LAVENDER  23 

Clement. 
Certainly. 

[Clement  fosses  a  coin  and  catches  it  on  the 
back  of  his  hand,  covering  it. 

Clement. 
Call! 

[Dick  throws  his  coin  in  the  air  —  it  falls 
Tnany  yards  aivay  from  liivi,  but  he  covers 
the  back  of  his  hand  as  if  he  had  caught 
the  coin.     Clement  laughs. 

Dick. 
[  Uncovering  his  hand  disajipointed.^     Oh,  never 
mind  —  woman ! 

Clement. 
Yours. 

[Dick  sits  in  the  armchair.  Clement  helps 
Dick  to  siveetbread,  then  pours  out  tea. 

Clement. 
No  appetite,  I  suppose  ? 

Dick. 
[^As  if  with  a  disagreeable  taste  in  his  mojith.'] 
Hem !     I  fancy  my  liver  isn't  as  it  should  be. 

Clement. 
Ah  !  Dick,  Dick,  you've  broken  your  word  to  me 
again. 

Dick. 

[Cheerfully.']     The  last  time,  Clement,  my  boy 
—  the  last  time. 


24  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Clement. 
It's  always  the  last  time,  Dick. 

Dick. 

[^Making  a  clatter  ivith  his  knife  and  fork,  iiri- 
tably.']  Don't  talk  childishly.  Last  night  was  the 
last  time ;  it  will  be  the  last  time.  You're  inva- 
riably finding  fault,  Clement  —  it's  discouraging. 
Blame,  blame,  blame  ;  but  praise  —  oh  dear,  no! 

Clement. 

Praise  for  what  ? 

Dick. 

[Bitterly.']  It  is  hardly  for  a  man  of  ray  age  to 
indicate  to  a  hoy  the  particular  qualities.  \^Appeal- 
ingly.']  Clem,  Clem,  I'm  sorry — there.  I  apolo- 
gise. Never  again.  \_Holding  out  his  Jtand.]  Friends, 
Clement,  my  boy  ?     Word  of  honour,  my  boy. 

Clement. 
\_Gripping  his  hand.]     Word  of  honour,  Dick. 

Dick. 
[  Vigorously.]   Done.    But  do  try  to  commend  a  lit- 
tle more,  Clement  —  to  praise,  to  encourage.    Much 
may  be  done  by  kindness.     \_Cheerfully.]     Sweet- 
bread ? 

Clement. 

\_Absently.]     No,  thanks,  Dick. 

Dick. 
Off  your  feed  ?      Spoonful  of  whiskey  in  your 
tea  —  tone  to  the  stomach. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  25 

Clement. 
Dick,   Delaney  says   that  little  Lavender  Rolt 
ought  to  discontinue  her  studies. 

Dick. 
Oh  I 

Clement. 

\Leaving  the  table.]  Confound  it !  When  she  is 
making  such  progress. 

[Clement  sits  with  his  elbows  on  the  writ- 
ing-table and  his  head  resting  on  his  hand. 

Dick. 

Hallo,  Clement,  my  boy  !  [  Going  over  to  Clem- 
ent sympathetically.^     This  won't  do. 

Clement. 

What  won't  do  ? 

Dick. 

Clem,  no  man  is  quite  so  sober  as  the  individual 
who  is  occasionally  otherwise.  All  his  acuteness  is 
concentrated  upon  his  brief  lucid  intervals,  and  in 
those  intervals  his  acuteness  is  —  devilish.  [^Lay- 
ing his  hand  on  Clement's  shoulder.'^     Clement ! 

Clement. 
Dick! 

Dick. 

When  you  took  compassion  upon  a  worthless, 
broken-down  reprobate  —  I  allude  to  the  gentleman 
now  liououred  with  the  attention  of  the  House  — 
you  did  a  tine  thing ;  but  don't  spoil  it,  Clement, 
my  boy! 


26  SWEET  LAIENDER 

Clement. 
What  do  you  mean  ?     What  is  there  to  spoil  ? 

Dick. 
Your  career.  D'ye  think  I  haven't  seen  this 
coming  on  —  your  giving  little  Lavender  hints  in 
grammar  and  composition,  and  buying  her  Boyle's 
Arithmetic,  and  explaining  the  difference  between 
a  Cape  and  an  Istlunus  in  the  dusk  by  that  win- 
dow ?  No,  no,  Clement,  my  boy,  it  wouldn't  an- 
swer—  for  the  sake  of  her  peace  of  mind  and  your 
future,  pull  up  before  the  mischief's  done ! 

Clement. 

{^Taking  Dick's  hand.']  You're  too  late,  Dick. 
I  love  her. 

Dick. 
[Spluttering  with  anger,  and  shaking  his  fist  at 
Clement.]  Out  of  my  chambers  !    This  is  gratitude. 
This  is  how  you  profit  by  the  counsel  and  companion- 
ship of  a  man  double  your  age  !   I've  done  with  you. 

Clement. 
Very  well,  Dick. 

Dick. 

\_Rushing  at  him.']  Clement,  my  boy,  I'm  a  little 
angry  now  —  [tearfully]  —  but  I  shall  work  round, 
Clem.  You  haven't  breathed  a  word  to  the  poor 
child,  have  you  ? 

Clement. 
Not  a  word,  Dick. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  27 

Dick. 

Thank  you,  Clem.  Lavvy  must  be  sent  into  the 
country  for  the  benefit  of  her  health,  and  then  — 
there'll  be  an  end  of  it. 

Clement. 
Dick  !     Why  should  there  be  an  end  of  it  ? 

Dick. 

Don't  talk  to  me,  sir,  like  that !  Haven't  you  been 
adopted  by  a  Mr.  What's-his-name,  a  banker,  sir  ? 

Clement. 
Well? 

Dick. 

If  a  banker  should  adopt  Trie,  you'd  see  something 
like  behaviour,  sir.  Why,  if  you  offend  your  father, 
as  you  call  him,  you'll  be  a  pauper ;  you'll  be  like 
Richard  Phenyl,  Esq.,  of  the  Inner  Temple  ! 

Clement. 

Why  should  I  offend  Mr.  Wedderburn  by  loving 
a  girl  who  is  simple  and  honest  and  generous  and 
courtly ;  whose  only  vice  is  that  she  is  not  dressed 
by  a  Bond  Street  milliner  ? 

Dick. 
Don't  come  to  me  when  you're  starving,  that's  all. 

Clement. 

Nonsense,  Dick.  At  the  worst  I  shall  have  my 
profession. 


28  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

Profession  !  What  good  is  my  profession  to  me  ? 
[^Snatching  a  dirty  pipe  from  the  mantelpiece  sav- 
agely.'] Besides,  ain't  you  engaged  to  a  beautiful  — 
a  Miss  Thing-a-my  —  Mr.  Wedderburn's  niece  ? 

Clement. 
Mrs.    Gilfillian's   daughter   and   I  were  thrown 
together  as  children,  and  I  believe  there  was  some 
idea  — 

Dick. 
Ha  !    You  believe  ! 

Clement. 

But  I'm  sure  that  Minnie  Gilfillian  troubles  her 
pretty  head  very  little  about  me. 

Dick. 

Hadn't  you  better  wait  till  Miss  Gilfillian  and 
Mrs.  Gilfillian  and  Mr.  Wedderburn  bring  their 
three  pretty  heads  back  to  England  ? 

Clement. 
Wait !   I  can't  stop  the  beating  of  my  heart,  Dick 
—  and  it  beats  Lavender,  Lavender,  Lavender,  every 
moment  of  the  day.   [^He  buries  his  head  in  his  hands. 

Dick. 

One  last  word,  Clement,  my  boy.  [Slowly  and  care- 
fully filling  his  pipe.]  The  story  of  Cinderella  hasn't 
been  properly  told  yet.  There  was  no  pumpkin  and 
no  fairy.  The  carriage  came  from  Windover's  and 
the  pair  of  bays  from  Tattersall's,  at  the  young 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  29 

gentleman's  order.  The  girl  was  pretty  and  good, 
and  he  loved  her,  Clement,  but  the  time  arrived 
when  the  slippers  wore  down  at  the  heel  and  had 
to  be  replaced  by  a  size  larger.     And,  by  and  bye 

—  it's  a  sad  story  —  he  noticed  that  her  little  sharp 
elbows  didn't  get  whiter,  poor  thing  !  and  that  she 
mixed  up  the  first  and  third  person  in  accepting 
Lady  Montmorency's  kind  invitation  to  dine.  And 
one  day  a  carriage  and  pair  were  for  sale,  Clement 

—  as  good  as  new  —  the  property  of  a  gentleman 
leaving  England,  who  was  no  longer  answerable  for 
the  debts  contracted  by  Cinderella,  his  wife. 

Clement. 
The  hero  of  your  story  was  a  cad,  Dick  I 

Dick. 

The  hero  of  any  story  generally  is.  There  —  take 
my  sermon  or  leave  it.  But  it's  because  I  love 
you,  and  because  this  poor  woman,  Ruth  Eolt,  has 
been  for  fifteen  years  a  good  friend  to  a  shaggy 
worthless  cur,  that  I  won't  let  you  and  her  child 
make  each  other  wretched  without  raising  my  bark 
against  it.     Amen,  Clement,  my  boy  —  Amen ! 

[JETe  drops  into  the  armchair  facing  the  fire 
and  lights  his  pipe.  There  is  a  low 
knock  from  the  other  side  of  the  cur- 
tained opening. 

Clement. 

There's  that  man  of  mine,  Jenks  —  he  gets  later 
and  later  every  morning. 


30  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

{Growling.'^  Learn  to  dress  yourself.  /  dress 
myself.  [  The  knock  is  repeated. 

Clement. 
[Angrily.']     Come  in ! 

Lavender,  a  slight  pretty  girl,  about  seventeen, 
shabbily  dressed,  draws  the  curtain  and  enters 
the  room.  Her  voice  is  sv^eet  and  gentle,  and  her 
movements  graceful  and  refined.  She  carries 
some  school-books,  an  ^^ exercise"  book,  and  a 
small  tray. 

Lavender. 

^Standing  unnoticed  —  tiviidly.]  May  I  clear 
the  table,  please  ? 

Dick. 

\_Tuming  in  his  chair.]     Hallo  ! 

Clement. 

[Jumping  up.]  Good  gracious !  We  thought 
you  were  Jenks. 

Lavender. 

[Taking  a  little  crumpled  note  from  her  pocket.] 
Jenks  has  just  left  this  note  downstairs,  Mr.  Hale. 

Clement. 

[Reading.]  "  Henry  Jenks  presents  his  respect- 
ful compliments,  but  I  am  not  coming  any  more 
has  I  —  "  H'm.  Hand  that  to  Mr.  Phenyl,  Lav- 
ender. 

[Lavender  gives  the  note  to  Dick. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  3> 

Dick. 

\^Reading.']  "  I  am  not  coming  any  more  has  I 
can't  stand  the  carryings  on  of  that  awful  Mr. 
Phenyl."     [^Indignantly.']     Well  —  I  — 

\_He  screws  up  the  note  vindictively  and  throws 
it  into  the  fire  ;  then  turning,  he  sees  Lav- 
ender and  Clement  close  together. 

Lavender. 

[Giving  the  books  to  Clement,  reluctantly.']  You 
won't  look  at  my  exercise  till  I've  cleared  the 
breakfast  table  and  gone  right  out  of  sight,  will 

you  ? 

Clement. 

Why? 

Lavender. 

It's  so  blotty. 

Dick. 

[Fidgeting.  ]  H'm !  Clement,  my  boy !  [Admon- 
ishing Clement  by  waving  his  pipe.] 

[Lavender  goes  to  the  bi-eakfast  table  and 
begins  removing  the  things. 

Clement. 
[Angrily.]     Don't  interfere,  Dick. 

Dick. 

Thank  you,  Mr.  Hale.  [Stalking  away  indig- 
nantly. 

Clement. 

[To  himself.]     Confound  Dick's  cynicism.    How 


32  SWEET  LAVENDER 

sweet    she   is.     \To  Lavender.]     May  I  help  in 
some  way  ?  \He  takes  up  the  teapot. 

Lavender. 

No,  thank  you.  [^Taking  the  teapot  from  Clem- 
ent and  looking  at  hit  empti/  plate.'\  Poor  Mr. 
Phenyl  hasn't  eaten  any  breakfast. 

Clement. 
Ah,  poor  Mr.  Phenyl. 

\_She  carries  some  of  the  breakfast  things 
out  into  the  passage  and  puts  them  on 
the  butler^s  tray.  Clement  hesitates  a 
moment,  then  snatches  up  an  egg-cup 
and  goes  after  her. 

Dick. 

[^Looking  roitnd.^  Where,  where?  [Going  to 
the  curtained  ojyening.]     Ah,  Clement,  my  boy. 

[Clement  returns  to  the  room,  glaring  at 
Dick,  a7id  stands  sulkily  before  the  fire. 
Lavender  goes  on  clearing  the  table. 
Dick  throws  himself  on  the  sofa,  opens 
the  newspaper,  and  eyes  Clement  and 
Lavender /?'07?i  behind  it. 

Clement, 

Do  you  know  that  your  books  are  to  be  closed, 
Lavender  ? 

Lavender. 

\Starting.'\     My  books  ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  33 

Clement. 

Pounds,  shillings,  and  pence  are  to  be  withdrawn 
from  your  mental  banking  account;  the  intricate 
verb  will  torture  you  no  longer  ;  and  the  mountains 
of  this  world  will  have  to  settle  their  relative  height 
amongst  themselves. 

Lavendeb. 

[Falter ingly.']  I  was  afraid  I  was  becoming  too 
troublesome  to  you,  Mr.  Hale. 

Clement. 

INIy  dear  child,  it's  not  my  doing,  but  Doctor 
Delaney's. 

Lavender. 

Oh,  how  cruel !  He  doesn't  know  how  ignorant 
and  stupid  I  am  ! 

[She  returns  to  the  passage  in  tears. 

Clement. 
[Savagely  to  Dick.]     There  ! 

Dick. 

Think  of  your  health,  Lavvy.  Health  should  be 
the  first  consideration  with  us  all. 

[Lavender  returns,  wiping  her  eyes,  to  brush 
away  the  crximbs. 

Clement. 

But  I've  a  capital  notion.  If  you  may  not  read, 
there's  nothing  to  prevent  your  being  read  to. 


34  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

Eh? 

Clement. 

And  so,  Lavender,  every  evening  for  a  couple  of 
hours  I'll  grind  out  some  sound  instructive  work 
and  you  shall  sit  and  listen  to  me. 

Lavender. 
[^Gratefully. 'I     Oh,  Mr.  Hale  !  how  good  you  are  ! 

Clement. 
I'll  lay  in  a  stock  of  books  this  morning.     We'll 
begin  on  "  Frederick  the  Great,"  by  Carlyle. 

Dick. 

Twenty-one  volumes ! 

[Lavender  having  cleared  the  table,  now 
revioves  the  white  cloth  and  begins  to 
fold  it. 

Clement. 
[Advancing. "]     Allow  me  ? 

Lavender. 
Thank  you,  Mr.  Hale. 

[Clement  takes  an  end  of  the  tablecloth 
opposite  Lavender.  Dick  savagely 
screws  the  paper  into  a  ball  and  flings 
it  away.  There  is  a  sharp  rat-tat-tat 
at  the  outer  door. 

Dick. 

[Taking  Lavender's  end  of  the  tablecloth  from 
her.']     Go  to  the  door,  Lavvy. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  35 

^Clement  folds  the  cloth  angrily  with 
Dick.  Lavender  opens  the  door  and 
admits  Horace  Bream,  a  good-looking, 
well-dressed  fair-haired  young  American. 

Horace. 
\_At  the  door.']     Thank  you  —  Mr.  Hale  ?     Thank 
you.     \_Adva'ncing  and   lookmg  from  Clement   to 
Dick.]     You'll  excuse  me,  I  hope,  but  being  rather 
in  a  hurry  —  [to  Dick]  —  Hale  ? 

Dick. 

Dropping  his  end  of  the  tablecloth.']  No  —  Phenyl ! 

Horace. 

[To  Clement.]  Mr.  Hale,  I  am  perfectly  delighted 
to  make  your  acquaintance.  Permit  me  to  carry 
this  through  with  you. 

[Placing  his  hat  and  stick  on  the  floor,  he 
picks  up  the  end  of  the  tablecloth  and 
folds  it  with  Clement,  who  glares  at 
him  in  annoyance.  Dick  sits  on  the 
sofa,  chuckling.  Lavender  is  seen 
from  time  to  time  in  the  passage  taking 
away  the  breakfast  things. 

Clement. 
Eeally,  I  haven't  the  pleasure  of — 

Horace. 
Horace  Pinkley  Bream. 

Clement. 
Well,  but  — 


36  SIVEET  LAVENDER 

Horace. 

I  have  the  honour  to  be  a  great  personal  friend 
of  your  aunt,  Mrs.  Gilfillian,  and  her  daughter 
Minnie.     \_Warmly.'\     Sir,  most  charming  ladies. 

Clement. 
Oh,  pray  sit  down. 

Horace. 

\_Sitting.'\     I'm  in  a  very  great  hurry. 

Clement. 
Have  you  any  message  from  —  ? 

Horace. 
\_Unconcernedly ."]     No,  sir,  I  have  not. 

Clement. 

[Commanding  himself. ~\  Then  would  you  mind 
telling  me  —  ? 

Horace. 

[Looki7i(/  at  his  watch.']  Certainly.  The  fact  is, 
your  party  picked  me  up  in  Paris  two  months  ago. 

Clement. 
What  party  ? 

Horace. 

Mr.  Wedderburn,  his  sister,  Mrs.  Gilfillian,  and 
her  daughter.  Sir,  charming  ladies  !  From  Paris 
we  travelled  to  Marseilles ;  from  Marseilles  to 
Cannes ;  Cannes  to  Nice.  They  just  stuck  to  me 
right  through.  l_Looking  round.]  Sir,  I  am  delighted 
with  your  apartments. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  37 

Clement. 

[To  himself.}  An  intrusive  table  d'hote  acquaint- 
ance. [To  Horace.]  You  left  my  friends  at  Nice, 
I  presume  ? 

Horace. 

No,  sir;  we  are  home. 

Clement. 

Home ! 

Horace. 

I  brought  Mrs.  Gillillian  and  her  daughter  right 
through  to  London  yesterday.     Charming  ladies. 

Dick. 
[To  himself.]     Hallo  ! 

Clement. 
[Under  his  breath.']     Confound  it ! 

Horace. 
We  left  Wedderburn   in  Paris,  buying  things. 
An  exceedingly  pleasant  gentleman. 

Clement. 
[Distractedly.]     And  where  are  Mrs.  GilfiUian 
and  her  daughter  now  ? 

Horace. 

That's  my  difficulty  —  where  ?  I  lost  'em  at  Char- 
ing Cross  station  last  night.  Having  heard  them 
frequently  talk  about  you,  I  dug  up  your  old  apart- 
ments in  Pear  Tree  Court,  where  I  found  your  notice 
of  removal.     You  have  not  seen  Mrs.  GilfiUian  yet  ? 


38  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Clement. 
No,  sir. 

Horace. 

Thank  you  ;  good  morning.  [Presenting  a  card 
to  Clement.]  You  have  not  been  on  our  side, 
probably  ? 

Clement. 
No. 

Horace. 

Sir,  you'll  just  love  N'York.  \^ Shaking  hands 
with  Clement  wann.ly.~\  I  regret  that  I  am  rather 
in  a  hurry.  [^Handing  a  card  to  Dick,  and  shaking 
hands.~\  Sir,  good  morning.  You'll  hear  from  me  the 
very  moment  I've  discovered  these  charming  ladies. 

Clement. 

But  pardon  my  putting  it  so  plainly,  perhaps 
they  don't  want  you  to  discover  them. 

Horace. 

\_Looking  at  his  watch.']  Sorry  I  can't  discuss  that 
question  just  now.     I'm  rather  in  a  hurry. 

[He  goes  out  quickly. 

Dick. 

Clement,  my  boy  !  Mrs.  Gilfillian  and  her  daugh- 
ter are  in  London  !     The  hand  of  Fate  ! 

Clement. 

[  With  determination.']  I  shall  be  happy  to  see 
them,  Dick,  and  to  shake  the  hand  of  Fate.  If  I'm 
not  in  when  they  call,  sa}^  I'll  be  back  in  half-an-hour. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  39 

Dick. 
I  don't  like  your  look,  Clem.     What  are  you 
going  to  do  ? 

Clement. 

Do,  Dick  !  I  am  going  out  to  buy  "  Frederick 
the  Great,"  by  Carlyle. 

\He  goes   into   his   bedroom.      Lavender 
appears  in  the  passage. 

Dick. 

\^Calling  after  Clement.]  Leave  my  chambers  to- 
day !  I've  done  with  you  !  [To  himself.']  If  Kuth 
could  only  afford  to  send  little  Lavvy  away  for  the 
benefit  of  her  health,  what  a  solution  it  would  be. 
I  think  I  could  contrive  it  if  I  had  a  few  pounds  to 
spare.  But  if  I  had  a  few  pounds  to  spare,  I  couldn't 
spare  'em.  Lavender  !  [Lavender  takes  the  folded 
tablecloth  from  the  table  and  puts  it  away  in  the  side- 
board.'] [Thinking.]  Cripps  has  a  fellow  reading 
with  him  who  wants  to  buy  a  little  library.  \_Looking 
towards  the  bookshelves.]  There's  my  little  library  ; 
the  last  remainder  of  the  time  when,  if  Cripps's  pupil 
is  good  for  fifteen  pounds,  I'll  lend  'em  to  Ruth  Rolt, 
and  Lavvy  shall  leave  town.  \_Eyeing  Lavender.] 
Brighton  into  fifteen  quid  won't  go.  Broadstairs 
into  fifteen  quid,  four  weeks  and  one  day  over, 
[Shaking  his  fist  at  the  books.']  Come  on  !  [Taking 
down  the  books,  savagely.]  I'D.  teach  you  to  remind 
me  of  the  time  when  I  was  a  promising  lad  like 
Cripps's  pupil ! 

Lavender. 

[Watching  him  in  surjrrise.]  May  I  help  you, 
Mr.  Phenyl  ? 


40  SWEET  LAVENDER 

[Dick  drops  a  book  and  looks  guUtily  at 
Lavender. 

Dick. 

For  sale,  Lavvy  —  library  of  Richard  Phenyl, 
Esquire,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  Barrister-at-law  — 
fifty  volumes. 

Lavender. 

\^Sympathetically.']  Oh  !  \_Laying  her  hand  on  his 
arm.'}     Must  you  ? 

Dick. 

\_IIesitatmgly.']  Well  —  I  —  [^Looking  at  Lav- 
ender, then  towards  Clement's  door  —  stroking  her 
hair.}     I  think  I'd  better,  Lavvy. 

Lavender. 
Poor  Mr.  Phenyl !     Shall  I  hand  you  the  books  ? 

Dick. 

[To  himself.}  She  makes  me  feel  guilty.  \_Ten- 
derly.}  Lavvy,  if  your  mother  could  afford  it, 
would  you  like  three  or  four  weeks  in  the  country  ? 

Lavender. 
Oh,  no ! 

Dick. 

[SharplT/.}     No  ? 

\_She  hands  him  volume  after  volume,  from 
the  bookcase;  after  looking  at  the  title- 
pages  he  throws  them  on  to  the  floor. 

Lavender. 
The  temple  is  the  country  —  we  have  trees  and 
grass,  and  birds  and  flowers. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  4I 

Dick. 
Seaside,  then  ? 

Lavender. 
No,  we  have  a  river  with  boats  on  it. 

Dick. 
Pooh,  Lavvy!     Think  of  fresh  air,  fresh  eggs, 
fresh  milk  from  the  cow.     We  are  all  apt  to  under- 
rate the  importance  of  milk  from  the  cow. 

Lavender. 
No.     I'm  happy  here  —  so  happy ! 

Dick. 

[ To  himself.']     Thinking  of  him  !  —  Thinking  of 

him  ! 

Lavender. 

Why  do  you  look  at  the  title-pages  ? 

Dick. 

I'm  sorting  my  property  from  the  other  young 

gentleman's,  Mr.  Hale's. 

Lavender. 

\_Eagerly.']  Oh,  let  me  do  it !  I'll  look  for  Mr. 
Hale's  name  !  I'll  take  care  you  don't  sell  any  of 
his.     May  I  ? 

DlOK. 

Very  well,  Lavvy. 

\_She  takes  a  quantity  of  hooks  from  the 
shelves,  places  them  on  the  ground  and 
kneels  amongst  them,. 


43  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

[To  himself.']  It's  like  setting  her  to  sign  her 
own  death-warrant.  Cripps  is  in  court  to-day  in 
the  Baxter  case ;  I'll  run  over  and  see  him.  [^He 
goes  qulcklij  to  the  outer  door,  opens  it,  then  returns, 
leaving  the  door  slightly  open.]  Going  out  without 
dressing  !  I'm  upset  —  feel  I'm  doing  a  mean  thing. 
\_Looking  towards  Lavender  —  tearfully.']  Poor 
Clem  —  poor  Lavvy  ! 

[He  goes  into  his  bedroom.  Lavender 
examines  the  books  and  makes  a  neat 
pile  of  them  as  she  hums  a  song  happily. 
Ci.EMENT,  fashionably  dressed  for  walk- 
ing, enters,  unheard  by  Lavender,  and 
watches  her. 

Clement. 
[To  himself]     She  makes  a  room  seem  like  a 
garden. 

Lavender. 

[^Taking  up  a  book.]  "Smith's  Leading  Cases." 
[^Opening  it.]     Looks  rather  dry  —  no  conversation. 

[She  puts  it  aside. 

Clement. 
\^To  himself]     Why  should  I  hold  my  tongue  ? 

[He  silently  draws  the  curtain  over  the  open- 
ing, withotct  noticing  that  the  door  leading 
on  to  tlie  outer  passage  is  open. 

Lavender. 
[Taking  up  another  book.]     "Benjamin  on  Sales." 
Biblical.     Richard  PhenyL 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  43 

[Clement  goes  to  Dick's  door^  listens,  and 
then  quietly  turns  the  key. 

Lavender, 

[With  another  book.l  ''Williams  on  the  Law  of 
Real  Property."  Clement  Hale.  Ah  !  [She  opens 
the  middle  of  the  hook.']  "Incorporeal  Heredita- 
ments."    What  a  beautiful  book ! 

[She  settles  herself  a  little  nearer  the  tvindow 
and  reads  earnestly.  Clement  comes 
and  sits  upon  the  pile  of  books  beside  her. 

Clement. 

[^Softly.]     Lavender. 

[  With  a  low  cry  of  fright  she  turns  slowly  and 
looks  at  him. 

Lavender. 
What  are  you  doing  there,  Mr.  Hale  ? 

Clement. 
I've  come  to  sit  with  you  in  the  garden. 

Lavender. 

The  garden ! 

[Staring  at  him,  she  tries  to  rise;  hestretch.es 
out  his  hand  and  takes  hers. 

Lavender. 
[  Under  her  breath.']     Mr.  Hale  I 


44  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Clement. 

[Drawing  her  down  near  him,  and  looking  into  her 
face  earnestly.']  I  love  you  Lavender,  with  all  my 
heart.     Will  you  be  my  wife  ? 

\_She  shrinks  away,  still  staring  at  him, 

Clement. 
Speak  to  me.     You  don't  mean  no ! 

Lavender. 
[Faintly.']     I  don't  know  what  I  mean. 

Clement. 

[Tenderly.]  Think  about  it.  Think  about  it  — 
here. 

[He  gently  draws  her  to  him  and  clasps  her 
in  his  arms. 

Lavender. 
[Half  crying.']     You  —  you  oughtn't  to  love  me  ! 

Clement. 
Why? 

Lavender. 
You  know,  I'm  not  —  a  lady. 

Clement. 
My  dear  Princess. 

Lavender. 
I  work.     Ah,  how  red  my  hands  are ! 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  45 

Clement. 

Because  your  blushes  run  down  into  them.  When 
you're  accustomed  to  being  my  wife,  they'll  grow 
quite  white. 

Lavender. 

But  look  at  me  —  my  frocks  can't  keep  secrets 
if  I  can  ;  I'm  very  poor. 

Clement. 
I'll  be  poor  with  you,  if  it  comes  to  that. 

Lavender. 
\_Looking  up  into  his  face.~\     Are  you  poor? 

Clement. 

I've  nothing  —  of  my  own  —  but  my  profession, 
\_Thoiight fully.']     I  may  become  very  poor. 

Lavender. 

[^Rising  quickly.']     Oh  ! 

Clement. 
{^Retreating  a  little.']    Do  you  like  me  less  for  that? 

Lavender. 

{Going  towards  him. ~\  Less!  {Checking  herself .] 
I  —  I  haven't  said  I  like  you  at  all,  but  if  I  ever 
did  like  you,  it  would  be  because  I  know  how  to 
be  poor,  and  could  teach  you  the  way  to  bear  it. 

Clement. 
{IhroAving  her  to  him.]  My  sweet,  sweet  Lavender ! 


46  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Lavender. 

\In  a  whisper-l     Clement.     You  know  how  pale 
I've  been  looking  lately. 

Clement. 
Yes  !  that's  why  I  asked  Delaney  to  call. 

Lavender. 

Foolish  boy  !    I  shall  have  red  cheeks  to-morrow. 
I  —  I've  been  thinking  so  much  about  you,  Clement. 

Clement. 
\_Laughing.']     Lavender ! 

Lavender. 

Ah,  don't  laugh  at  me  ! 

[_Sh6  sits  ujjon  the  sofa,  hiding  her  face.   He 
goes  to  her  and  kneels  by  her  side. 

Clement. 
Why  were  you  sitting  amongst  those  books  ? 

Lavender. 

Mr.  Phenyl  is  obliged  to  sell  them. 

Clement. 
He  sha'n't  do  anything  of  the  kind.     We'll  stick 
to  old  Dick,  won't  we  ? 

Lavender. 
Always.     And  we  won't  let  mother  work  any 
more,  will  we  ? 


Never. 
[^Happily. '\     Ah ! 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  47 

Clement. 
Lavender. 


Clement. 
Tell  me  again  you  love  me. 

Lavender. 

I  never  will.  You  make  me  say  things  and  then 
you  laugh  at  me.  [Bending  her  head  to  /m.]  I 
love  you. 

The  curtain  over  the  doorway  is  pushed  aside,  and 
Mrs.  Gilfillian  enters  followed  by  Minnie. 
Mrs.  Gilfillian  is  a  sedate  aristocratic-looking 
woman  about  fifty,  with  a  lofty  forehead  and 
side  curls.  Minnie  is  a  handsome,  lively  young 
woman.  Both  are  fashionably  dressed.  On  dis- 
covering Clement  at  Lavender's  feet  Mrs. 
Gilfillian  clutches  Minnie  by  the  arm,  and 
takes  her  otit ;  Clement  and  Lavender  luith 
their  heads  close  together  being  unconscious  of 
interruption.  There  is  then  a  loud  rat-tat-tat 
at  the  outer  door.  Clement  and  Lavender 
rise  quickly,  she  dropping  among  the  books, 
while  he  goes  and  draws  the  curtain  and  discov- 
ers Mrs.  Gilfillian  and  Minnie. 

Clement. 
My  dear  aunt. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian  enters  the  room  followed  by  Minnie. 

]\rRS.  Gilfillian. 
[^Much  disturbed,  giving  Clement   two  fingers.'] 


48  SWEET  LAVENDER 

We  found  your  door  open,  Clement,  but  I  preferred 
knocking. 

Clement. 

[^Unhappily.']     Delighted,  aunt. 

[Mrs.  Gilfillian  ivalks  straight  across  to 
Lavender,  looking  down  upon  her 
through   her  pince-nez, 

Clement. 
[To  Minnie.]     Minnie. 

Minnie. 
[Demurely.]     Well,  Clem. 

Clement. 
[Hesitatingly.]     This  is  a  jolly  surprise. 

Minnie. 
[Looking  at  Lavender.]     'M  —  yes. 

[Lavender  having  pushed  the  books  out  of 
the  way,  goes  out  of  the  rooin,  Mrs.  Gil- 
FiLLiAN  looking  after  her.  Minnie  takes 
up  one  of  the  books,  looking  at  it  inquisi- 
tively. 

Clement. 
Those  are  the  books  we  slave  at,  Minnie. 

Minnie. 

[Glancing  at  him,  shyly.]     Don't  you  overdo  it, 
Clem. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  49 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[^Looking  after  Lavender.]  That's  a  wicked 
young  woman  ! 

\_She  shuts  the  door,  and  joins  Clement, 
as  Minnie  looks  rou7id  the  room. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

We  left  Nice  on  Tuesday,  Clement.  Minnie  and 
I  came  straight  through,  but  Mr.  Wedderburn  pre- 
fers to  dawdle  for  a  week  in  Paris.  \_Handing 
Clement  a  packet  of  cahlnet  photographs.'^  He  sends 
you  those  portraits,  done  by  Grotz  of  Monte  Carlo. 
[^Nervously.']   Minnie,  don't  pry. 

Clement. 

[^Looking  at  the  photographs.']  Dear  old  guv'nor ! 
[^Reading  the  siq^erscription  on  one  of  the  portraits. ~\ 
"  For  my  boy  —  from  Geoffrey  Wedderburn."  [To 
Mrs.  Gilfillian.]  The  fact  is,  aunt,  I've  already 
heard  of  your  return  from  a  gentleman  who  was 
good  enough  to  call  on  me. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Not  Mr.  Bream  ! 

Clement. 
Horace  Pinkley  Bream  ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
\_Sinking  into  armchair.']   Oh  ! 

Minnie. 
[^Sitting  on  sofa.]  Oh,  ma  ! 


50  SJVEET  LAVENDER 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
We  shall  never  shake  him  off.     He  saved  Minnie's 
life  in  Paris  by  pulling  her  from  under  a  tramcar 
in  the  Avenue  Mirabeau. 

Clement. 
Good  gracious  ! 

Mrs,  Gilfillian. 

So  careless  of  her  to  get  there  !  I  closed  my 
eyes  and  in  imagination  heard  the  cracking  of  her 
bones.  This  person  rushed  forward  and  restored 
her  to  the  side-walk,  as  he  will  persist  in  calling  the 
pavement. 

Clement. 

I  should  like  to  thank  him. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Don't !  He'll  never  leave  you  if  you  do.  I 
thanked  him  —  although  he's  not  at  all  the  young 
man  I  would  have  selected  to  rescue  a  child  of  mine. 

Clement. 

[  Uneasily.']     In  London  for  long,  aunt  ? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

The  season.  We  have  rooms  at  the  Metropole, 
but  we  shall  eat  at  these  new  coffee  establishments 
in  Regent  Street.  Oh,  will  you  oblige  me  by  tak- 
ing a  shilling  cab  to  the  hotel,  and  asking  my  maid, 
Bodly,  for  my  vinaigrette  ? 

Clement. 
Certainly. 

\_H6  lays  the  photographs  on  the  table  and 
takes  up  his  hat  and  umbrella. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  51 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

You  lunch  here  ? 

Clement. 

It's  sent  in  at  one  o'clock. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
We  could  remain,  if  — 

Clement. 
\Blanklyr\     Delighted. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
\To  herself.']     He  must  never  be  left  again. 

Clement. 
\_Banging  his  hat  on  his  head.]     Confound  ! 

[^He  goes  o^it.  Mrs.  Gilfillian  looks  to 
see  that  the  door  is  closed,  then  rises,  and 
crosses  to  Minnie. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[  With  a  gasp.]     Minnie,  my  poor  child !     You 
saw  that  young  woman  ? 

Minnie. 
I'm  afraid  I  did,  mamma. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

What  were  they  doing  ?     I  have  never  felt  my 
near  sight  so  keenly. 

Minnie. 

Clement  was  kneeling,  mamma  —  in  an  ordinary 
way.     And  I  think  he  was  holding  her  hand. 


$2  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Mks.  Gilfillian. 
Ah,  I  saw  that ! 

Minnie. 
And  she  was  looking  down  —  in  an  ordinary  way. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

\_Pacing  to  and  fro. '\  In  the  very  room,  in  which 
we  are  asked  to  take  luncheon. 

Minnie. 

Don't  be  cross,  ma,  dear.  She  is  very  pretty  and 
innocent-looking. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Innocent-looking  !  Do  you  think  I  will  have  my 
plans  —  my  plans  and  my  brother's  —  frustrated 
by  a  girl  with  ulterior  motives  and  eyes  like 
saucers  ? 

Minnie. 

Look  here,  ma,  darling.  Clement  is  grown  up 
now  and  may  do  just  as  he  pleases.  I  am  quite 
fond  of  Clem,  always  was,  and  if  he  asked  me  to  be 
his  wife  —  well,  I  should  want  to  know  all  about 
that  young  woman.  But  I  don't  care  a  pin  for 
Uncle  Geoifrey's  plans,  and  if  Clem  doesn't  take  to 
me  —  as  I'm  sure  he  ought  to  —  why,  bless  him, 
I'll  be  his  wife's  bridesmaid  and  her  friend  into  the 
bargain. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

{^Indignantly.']     Minnie !     [^Suddenly.']     Hush ! 

\_The  handle  of  the  door  of  Dick's  room,  is 
rattled  froin  the  inside. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  53 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[  With  horror.^     Minnie  !    There's  somebody  else 
in  that  room ! 

Minnie. 

\_Retr eating.']     Oh,  ma ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

And  this  is  the  Law  ! 

Dick. 

IFrom  within.]     Clement!     Clement! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Listeyiing.]     It's  a  man's  voice  —  or  a  deep  con- 
tralto. 

Dick. 

\_Still  within.]     Locked  in,  Clement,  my  boy. 

[Mrs.  Gilfillian  txirns  the  key  in  the  door, 
and  retreats.  Dick  enters  in  the  old  and 
worn  tvig  and  gown  of  a  barrister. 

Dick. 
Thank  you.     \_Enquiringly.]     To  see  Mr.  Hale  ? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Oh,  I  have  seen  Mr.  Hale.     May  I  ask  —  ? 

Dick. 
Richard  Phenyl.     Hale  and  I  live  together. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[^Eagerly.]     Dear  me  !     I  wish  to  speak  to  you 


54  SWEET  LAVENDER 

immediately.     Mrs.  GilfiUian.     [^Introducing  Min- 
nie.]    My  daughter. 

[Minnie  laughs  behind  her  handkerchief 
at  Dick's  appearance. 

Dick. 
[Politely.']     Heard  of  you. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Quietly  to  Minnie.]  Go  away.  Go  away !  Per- 
haps this  gentleman  will  allow  you  to  try  the  piano. 
E Minnie,  tvith  a  toss  of  the  head  goes  to  the  piano.] 
To  Dick.]  Mr.  Funnel,  I  have  just  received  a 
great  shock.  [Minnie  plays  a  sentimental  air. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Who  is  the  young  woman  who  frequents  these 
rooms  ? 

Dick. 
Young  woman  ? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

We  came  in  suddenly.  A  girl  was  seated  on  that 
sofa.  Ugh !  Clement  was  on  his  knees  before  her, 
Mr.  Funnel. 

Dick. 

[To  himself?^     He's  done  it !     He's  done  it  I 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Minnie  got  me  away  somehow,  unheard  by  either 


SWEET  LAVENDER  55 

of  them  !    But  my  poor  child.    Mr.  Funnel  —  [tear- 
fully]—  the  blow  has  fallen  there. 

[Minnie  strikes  in  suddenly  with  a  very  lively 
air. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Minnie ! 

[Minnie  stops  playing,  and  Mrs.  Gilfillian 
goes  to  her  remonstrating. 

Dick. 

[To  himself.]  We're  in  for  it.  We've  made  our 
choice.  We  prefer  linsey  and  a  linen  collar  to  satin 
and  Valenciennes.  Very  well !  Now  it's  come  to 
it,  I'll  stick  to  you,  Clement,  my  boy  !  [Arranging 
his  wig  and  gown,  and  striking  a  forensic  attitude.'] 
For  the  defendant ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Returning  to  Dick.]     What  you  tell  me  is  in 
perfect  coniidence. 

Dick. 

Not  at  all  necessary,  m'm  —  we  court  inquiry. 
The  young  lady  is  the  daughter  of  Mrs.  Rolt,  who 
resides,  to  put  it  plainly,  in  the  basement. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
A  low  woman  ? 

Dick. 

[Pointing    downwards.]       Geographically  —  not 
otherwise.  [Minnie  resumes  playing  softly. 


56  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Nonsense,  sir.  These  people  attend  upon  you. 
This  girl's  mother  is  what  you  call  a  common  ser- 
vant. 

Dtck. 

No,  ma'am  —  she  is  what  I  call  a  lady. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

A  lady  ? 

Dick. 

Madam,  Mrs.  Rolt  has  been  a  kind,  faithful  friend 
to  me  for  fifteen  years.  If  I  have  the  privilege  of 
knowing  you  for  that  length  of  time  nothing  will 
induce  me  to  speak  ill  of  you. 

Ruth  enters,  and  stands  in  the  opening  to  passage. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
I'll  see  Mrs.  Rolt  at  once.     Kindly  ring  the  bell. 

[Dick  moves  towards  the  hell-handle  and  sees 
Ruth. 

Dick. 
Here  is  Mrs.  Rolt. 

Ruth. 
[Announcing.']     Mr.  Bream,  please. 

Horace  enters  quickly  ;  Dick  speaks  to  Ruth. 

Horace. 
[With  outstretched  hands.]     My  dear  Mrs.  Gilfil- 
lian !         [Minnie  stops  playing  suddenly,  and  rises. 


SIVEET  LAVENDER  57 

Minnie. 
Oh! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Jti  constei-natioji.']     Mr.  Bream ! 

Horace. 

\_Excitedly.'\  Lost  you  at  the  Custom  House 
counter  last  night  —  saw  you  in  a  hansom  this  morn- 
ing—  never  meant  to  rest  till  I'd  found  you. 

[Horace  goes  to  Minnie. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[^Helplessly  sinking  into  a  chair.']     Oh,  dear  me  ! 

Horace. 

[To  Minnie,  taking  her  hand.']  My  dear  Miss 
Gilfillian ! 

Minnie. 

[Distractedly.]    Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Bream  ? 

Ruth. 

[Quietly  to  Mrs.  Gilfillian.]  You  wish  to 
speak  to  me,  ma'am  ? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Rising.]     Mrs.  Rolt ! 

Ruth. 

Yes. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

I  have  discovered  that  there  have  been  —  some 
—  love  passages  between  Mr.  Hale  and  your 
daughter.     I  —  I  — 


58  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Ruth. 

Yes.  My  daughter  has  just  told  me  that  Mr. 
Hale  has  offered  her  marriage. 

Mks.  Gilfillian. 

Marriage.  \^Checking  herself ."]  Don't  you  under- 
stand that  this  is  a  terrible  shock  to  Mr.  Hale's 
friends  ? 

Ruth. 

\_Tearfully.']  I  understand  that  it  is  a  terrible 
shock  to  me  to  lose  my  child. 

[Ruth  Uirns  away,  and  leans  faintly  on 
the  hack  of  a  chair. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
To  lose  your  child.     I  see.     [To  herself]     It's 
serious ;  I'll  telegraph  at  once  to  brother  Geoffrey. 

[Mrs.  Gilfillian  seats  herself  at  writ- 
ing table  and  begins  writing  rapidly. 
Ruth's  eye  falls  upoji  the  photographs 
lying  on  table  ;  she  stares  at  them  for  a 
moment  blankly. 

Ruth. 
[^Commanding  herself — going  a  step  or  two  towards 
Dick.]    Mr.  Phenyl.     [Pointing  to  the  j^hotograph.] 
Who  —  who  is  that  ? 

Dick. 
Mr.  Wedderburn,  I  think. 

Ruth. 
[With  a  start.']     Wedderburn! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  59 

Dick. 

Banker  at  Barnchester  —  Mr.  Hale  is  his  adopted 
son. 

Ruth. 

In  —  indeed.  \_After  a  pause  she  goes  quickly  to 
Mrs.  GiLFiLLiAN,  an<:^^rAt5/^era.]  Madam!  Madam! 
[Mrs.  Gilfillian  turns.'\  You  —  you  have  mis- 
understood me.  I  —  I  give  you  my  word  my 
daughter  shall  never  marry  Mr.  Hale. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Rising,  with  the  written  telegram  in  her  hand.'] 
What! 

Ruth. 

[^Glancing  roinid.']     Hush  I 

[Lavender  enters  the  passage,  and  takes 
up  the  tray  from  the  hutler''s  stand. 
Gij'e.ta.Yj'st  follows  and  stands  ivhispering 
to  her.  Minnie  and  Horace  are  in 
close  conversation. 


8ND    OF    THE    FIRST    ACT. 


THE   SECOND  ACT 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  in  the  first  act.  A  day  has 
jnissed  and  it  is  now  evening. 

Dick,  looking  somewhat  neater  than  hefore,  is  sitting 
in  an  armchair,  s7noking  his  jyij^e  thoughtfully. 
Ruth  enters  quietly,  carrying  a  tray  with  tea- 
things,  and  a  letter. 

EUTH. 

A  cab  has  just  brought  this  letter  for  Mr.  Hale. 
I'll  place  it  here. 

\^She  lays  the  letter  on  one  of  the  teacups  ; 
Dick  rises  and  inteixepts  her  as  she  is 
going  out. 

Dick. 

How's  Lavvy  to-night  —  any  better? 

Ruth. 

\_TremhUngbj.']     N  —  no  —  No  better. 

Clement,  in  walking  dress,  and  carrying  a  hand- 

some  basket  of  floivers,  enters  hurriedly. 

60 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  6i 

Clement. 
Any  good  news,  Dick  ? 

Dick. 

[  With  a  grunt.']     No. 

[Dick  walks  to  and  fro  moodily. 

Clement. 
How  is  she,  Mrs.  Kolt  ? 

Ruth. 
I  fear  just  the  same.' 

Clement. 

May  I  not  see  her  for  a  moment  —  call  to  her  at 
her  door  ?     I'll  be  quiet  enough. 

E-UTH. 

No,  no  —  not  yet. 

Clement. 

Not  yet,   Mrs.   Rolt.     Still   not  yet     Oh,  you 
mothers ! 

Ruth. 
\_Bitterly.'\     Oh  —  we  mothers ! 

Clement. 

\^Handing  her  the  basket  of  flowers.']     Give  her 
these  flowers  with  ray  —  Say  I  —  You  know. 

\_He  drops  disconsolately  into  the  armchair. 
Ruth. 
\_Calmly.']     Thank  you.    They  are  very  beautiful. 
\_She  goes  out ;  Clement  then  rises  impa- 
tiently. 


62  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Clement. 

Dick,  Dick ! 

Dick. 

Clement ! 

Clement. 

The  idea  tortures  me  that  something  is  being 
kept  from  us !  By  Mrs.  Roll's  manner  there's  a 
mystery,  Dick ! 

Dick. 

You're  right,  Clement,  my  boy.  By  some  inde- 
finable instinct  1  feel  we  are  being  done,  sir  ! 

[Dick  hurls  his  pipe  furiously  into  the  grate, 
and  sits  in  the  armchair. 

Clement. 
Lavender  loves  me  —  I'll  never  doubt  that. 

Dick. 

Oh,  she  loves  us  right  enough  —  we  needn't  dis- 
tress ourselves  on  that  score. 

Clement. 

But  this  illness  !  "  I  shall  have  red  cheeks  to- 
morrow," she  said,  Dick  —  meaning  that  she  was 
well  and  happy  ;  and  then,  an  hour  afterwards  — 
ill !  Too  ill  to  be  seen,  too  ill  to  send  me  a  word 
of  comfort.  Last  night  —  worse.  This  morning — 
worse.  To-night  —  no  better.  Dick,  it's  unendur- 
able. 

Dick. 

\_Rising  with  judicial  solemnity,  and  warming 
himself  by  the  fire.']     Well,  you   know,  Clement, 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  63 

my  boy,  we  may  be  unduly  distressing  ourselves  — 
I  say  ourselves,  because  in  this  case  Mr.  Eichard 
Phenyl  is  with  you. 

Clement. 
Bless  you,  Dick  ! 

Dick. 

We  should  remember  that  we  are  youngsters  at 
this  sort  of  game  ;  that  this  is,  in  point  of  fact,  the 
first  time  we  have  offered  ourselves  in  marriage. 
For  all  we  know,  the  prospect  of  an  alliance  with 
us  would  set  up  a  condition  of  cerebral  excitement 
in  any  young  lady.  [^Taking  up  the  poker  to  aid 
him  in  his  argument.']  No,  no,  Clement,  my  boy, 
it  isn't  Lavvy's  illness  that  puzzles  me  — 

Clement. 
What  then,  Dick  ? 

Dick. 
Why,  the  sudden,  self-satisfied  affability  of  our 
aunt,  Mrs.  Gilfilliau. 

Clement. 
Ah! 

Dick. 

^Flourishing  the  poker.]  There's  an  unpleasant 
air  of  truculent  triumph  in  our  aunt's  demeanour 
that  I  resent,  Clement,  my  boy  ! 

Clement. 

And  I  too,  Dick  !  And  the  incessant  civility 
and  attention  I'm  in  duty  bound  to  show  Mrs. 
GilfiUian  drives  me  mad.  Good  gracious,  Dick ! 
she  and  Minnie  never  leave  me  for  a  moment ! 


64  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dick. 

Our  aunt  is  undoubtedly  a  barnacle,  Clement, 
my  boy. 

Clement. 

They  lunched  here  yesterday  —  you  know. 

Dick. 
/  know. 

Clement. 

Afterwards  dragging  me  to  the  Park  for  two 
hours  in  a  ridiculous  hired  landau,  and  ending  by 
carrying  me  off  to  a  classical  concert  in  the  evening. 

Dick. 

I  feel  for  you,  Clement,  though  I  was  at  a  smok- 
ing concert  myself  last  night. 

Clement. 
This  morning,  didn't  they  breakfast  with  us  ? 

Dick. 
Our  forthcoming  weekly  bill   will  testify  that 
they  did  ! 

Clement. 

Then  we  went  shopping  in  Bond  Street,  asked 
the  price  of  everything,  and  had  little  cold  veal 
pies  for  luncheon  at  a  ladies'  confectioners. 

Dick. 
\With  a  wry  face.']     Oh,  don't,  Clem,  don't  I 

Clement. 
After  that  we  visited  picture  galleries,  till  I  lost 
all  patience,  declared  I  was  neglecting  my  studies 


SWEET  LAVENDER  65 

and  rushed  away  to  buy  a  few  flowers  for  my  dear 
one. 

Dick. 

Well,  Clem,  perhaps  it  enables  you  to  forget  for  a 
minute  or  two  the  poor  little  sick  girl  downstairs. 

Clement. 
Ah,  Dick,  that's  unworthy  of  you !  Why,  every 
street  to  me  is  "  Lavender  Street ;  "  the  newsboys 
shout  nothing  but  "  Lavender  !  "  "Evening  Laven- 
der!" and  the  flower  girls  sell  only  sweet  Lavender 
from  their  baskets.  The  whole  world  is  perfumed 
with  Lavender ;  and  yet  she  and  I  seem  so  far  apart. 
Dick  —  so  very  far  apart. 

\_There  is  a  rat-tat  at  the  outer  door. 

Dick. 
A  visitor.     Can  it  be  our  aunt  ? 

Clement. 

{^Wearily.']     Open  the  door,   Dick,  like  a  good 
fellow. 

[Dick  opens  the  door^  Minnie  is  outside. 

Dick. 

Miss  Gilfillian ! 

Minnie. 
Yes.     May  I  see  Clement,  Mr.  Phenyl  ? 

Dick. 

I  don't  wish  to  dazzle  you.  Miss  Gilfillian,  but  you 
may  see  both  of  us.     Come  in. 


66  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie  enters.     She  is  handsomely  dressed  for  the 

theatre. 

Clement. 
Why,  Minnie  !     Are  you  alone  ? 

Minnie. 

Don't  scold  me,  Clem.  {^Quietly  to  him.']  I've 
something  I  must  say  to  you  in  secret. 

Clement. 
But  where's  aunt  ? 

Minnie. 

[^Laughing.']  I've  given  poor  mamma  what  we 
children  used  to  call  the  slip. 

Dick. 

Ah!  [With  a  chuckle.']  Ha!  ha!  [Minnie 
turns  to  Dick,  he  pokes  thejire.]     I  beg  your  pardon. 

[Clement  assists  Minnie  to  take  off  her  cloak. 

Minnie. 
I'm  afraid  you're  dreadfully  shocked,  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

No  —  no. 

Minnie. 

While  mamma  was  dressing  for  the  theatre  I 
stole  away  in  a  hansom.  I've  left  a  note  for  her  on 
my  table.     [Laughing.]     Ha,  ha ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  67 

Dick. 
[Joining  in  the  laugh.'\     Ha,  ha! 

Minnie. 
[Suddenly  serious.']     It's  awfully  wrong. 

Dick. 

[Seriousli/.]  Yes,  it'll  vex  our  aunt  —  Mrs.  Gil- 
fillian. 

Minnie. 

[To  Clement.]  But  mamma  will  call  for  us  here 
at  naif-past  eight,  Clem  dear. 

Clement. 
For  us? 

Minnie. 

Why,  haven't  you  received  her  letter  ? 

Dick. 

Dear  me,  quite  forgot  —  letter  for  you  somewhere, 
Clem.  [Arra7iging  the  armchair  for  M-iimiiE.]  Miss 
Gilfillian,  toss  for  the  armchair.  I  mean,  try  the 
armchair. 

[Clement /i /id's  the  letter  on  the  teacup  and 
opens  it. 

Clement. 

[Reading  the  letter  disconsolately. 1  "We  have  a 
box  for  four  persons  for  the  Cabinet  Theatre  to  wit- 
ness the  new  play  about  which  people  talk  so  much 
— '  The  Sealskin  Jacket.'  I  hear  it  described  as  a 
salutary  lesson  to  young  men.     We  shall  fetch  you 


68  SIVEET  LAVENDER 

at  half-past  eight."     [^Quietly  to  DicK.l^     Dick!  I'm 
getting  desperate! 

Dick. 

[  Under  his  breath,  grasping  Clement's  hand.'] 
Bear  up.  We  must  continue  to  hold  a  candle  to  — 
to  aunt. 

Clement. 

Why  shouldn't  you  join  us,  and  help  me  through 
the  evening  ?     The  box  holds  four. 

Dick. 
I  know.     Our  aunt  spread  out  in  front  and  the 
rest  looking  at  her  hair-pins.     No. 

Clement. 
Dick,  you're  unkind. 

Dick. 

Unkind !  \_In  a  whisper.]  Clement,  my  boy, 
have  you  seen  my  evening  clothes  ? 

Clement. 
No,  Dick. 

Dick. 

Thought  not.  The  coat  and  waistcoat  are  in  fair 
preservation,  but  the  rest  of  it  has  been  attending 
funerals  for  years. 

Minnie. 
[^Tapping  her  foot  impatiently.']     Clement! 

Clement. 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Minnie. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  6f> 

[Minnie  eyes  Dick,  and  looks  at  Clement 
significantly. 

Minnie. 
[In  an  undertone.']     Clement  —  Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Clement. 

Oh  !  yes.     \_Trying  to  attract  Dick's  attention.'] 
Dick! 

Dick. 

[Sitting  at  table.]     No,  no. 

Clement. 
Dick! 

Dick. 

Rather  busy  to-night,  Clement,  my  boy. 

[Clement  Tnakes  signs  to  Dick  to  depart, 
while  Dick,  thinking  that  Clement  is 
renewing  his  persuasions  with  regard  to 
the  theatre,  shakes  his  head. 

Clement. 
[Impatiently.]     Dick!  [Whispers  to  him. 

Dick. 

Oh !      [Shakiiig   Clement's    hand.]      My   dear 
Clement ! 

[He  snatches  up  a  book  from  the  sofa,  a 
newspaper  from  the  table,  and  a  pipe  and 
tobacco  jar  from  the  mantelpiece,  and  goes 
to  the,  door  of  his  own  room. 


70  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dick. 

\_Innocently.']  Can  you  spare  me  for  ten  minutes, 
Clement  ? 

Clement. 

Certainly,  Dick. 

Dick. 

Thank  you. 

[jffe  goes  into  his  room.  Minnie  watches  to 
see  the  door  close,  then  lays  her  hand  upon 
Clement's  arm. 

Minnie. 

[^Softly. 1  Clem,  dear,  I've  come  to  see  you  alone 
because  I  must  put  myself  right  with  you. 

Clement. 
Isn't  it  I  who  should  put  myself  right  with  you, 
Minnie  ? 

Minnie. 

Don't  be  polite,  Clem ;  and  unless  you  tell  me 
you  hate  me  I  shall  cease  to  respect  you. 

Clement. 
Hate  you ! 

Minnie. 

Why,  look  how  mamma  and  I  torture  you  all 
day  by  carrying  you  about  with  us  !  Aren't  you  in 
agony,  sir,  the  whole  time  ?  What  do  you  think 
you  looked  like  this  afternoon  in  Macnab's  picture 
gallery  in  the  Haymarket  ? 

Clement. 
I  —  I  was  so  horribly  anxious,  Minnie,  about  — 


SWEET  LAVENDER  71 

Minnie. 

About  your  studies.  Come,  Clem.  \_She  takes 
his  hand  and  places  him,  on  the  sofa,  then  sits  on  the 
head  of  the  sofa  looking  down  \ipon  Aim. J  Let  us 
be  fogies  for  a  moment.  You  know  we  were  very 
fond  of  each  other  as  children,  weren't  we  ? 

Clement. 
Yes,  Minnie,  and  — 

Minnie. 

Hush  !  Well,  then,  dear,  as  we  grew  up  we  grew 
out  of  our  love,  as  boys  and  girls  outgrow  their 
clothes.  Your  love,  as  it  were,  got  too  short  in 
the  waist,  and  mine  wouldn't  meet  at  the  buttons. 
And,  at  last,  one  fine  day  we  yawned,  Clem,  and 
the  seams  of  our  affection  collapsed, 

Clement. 
\Taking    her    hand,    embarrassed.']       My    dear 
Minnie  — 

Minnie. 

[Sitting  beside  him.']  Ah,  Clem,  don't  let  us 
mourn  for  it ;  we're  lucky  to  have  yawned  in  time, 
dear.  And  so  I  want  you  to  understand  that  I 
won't  help  to  mend  and  patch  an  old  attachment ; 
/won't  put  an  extra  flounce  or  a  new  set  of  hooks 
and  eyes  on  a  garment  a  couple  of  children  wore  to 
rags  years  ago.  There  !  That's  what  I  call  putting 
myself  right  with  you. 

Clement. 

[^Tenderly  —  taking  her  hands.]  My  dear  sister, 
how  compassionate  you  are  to  me  I 


72  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie. 

\_Smillng.'\  And  so  you  were  on  with  the  new  love 
before  you  were  off  with  the  old  —  you  bad  boy  ! 

Clement. 
I  —  I  can't  help  loving  her,  Minnie. 

Minnie. 

And  you're  quite  sure  there's  plenty  of  devotion 
turned  up  at  the  edge,  in  case  you  haven't  done 
growing  ? 

Clement. 

Ah,  Minnie,  I'm  not  so  bad  as  that ! 

Minnie. 

I've  no  faith  in  you  —  monster.  But,  Clem,  I'm 
dreadfully  afraid  mamma  still  thinks  we  shall  make 
a  match  of  it.  '[^Laughingly.']  Whenever  mamma 
is  triumphant  her  curls  are  always  rigid,  and  to-day 
they're  like  little  telescopes. 

Clement. 

\_Angrily.']  Whatever  happens,  Minnie,  I  resent 
aunt's  interference.     I  am  a  man  now  ! 

Minnie. 

Oh,  yes,  anybody  can  see  that  by  the  way  you 
jilt  people.  But,  Clem,  dear,  I  wish  you'd  do  some- 
thing to  please  me. 

Clement. 
I'll  do  anything ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  73 

Minnie. 
Anything  but  marry  me.  Well,  don't  wait  for 
Uncle  Geoffrey's  return,  but  write  to  him  to  the 
Hotel  Rivoli  in  Paris,  and  tell  him  how  you  adore 
—  my  hated  rival.  Uncle  Geof.  is  a  bachelor,  but 
married  men  and  bachelors  are  manufactured  by  the 
same  process  —  love,  Clem  —  and  he'll  understand. 
Tell  him  all,  and  say  that  the  girl  you  have  lost 
your  treacherous  heart  to  has  won  one  staunch 
friend  —  Minnie  Gilfillian. 

Clement. 
My  dear  sister,  I'll  write  directly  I  get  back  from 
the  theatre.     \_Putting  his  hand  to  his  breast.']  Shall 
I  send  him  her  portrait  ? 

Minnie. 
[Pointing.']     You've  got  one  there  ! 

Clement. 
How  did  you  guess  ? 

Minnie. 
You  silly  boy  ?     Show  it  me. 

\_She  sits  in  the  armchair;  he  takes  a  small 
photograph  from  his  pocket  and  hands 
it  to  her. 

Minnie. 
[Leaning  back  scrutinising  the  portrait  with  a  great 
air  of  indifference.]     So  this  is  the  little  lady  I 
saw  yesterday,  in  her  best  frock,  is  it  ? 

Clement. 
Yes,  I  stole  it  from  Dick  Phenyl's  album. 


74  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie. 

A  thief  as  well  as  a  heart-breaker.  And  you  con- 
sider her  really  pretty  ? 

Clement. 
Say  what  you  think,  Minnie  — I  don't  mind. 

Minnie. 

Why  she  has  only  two  eyes,  as  I  have ;  and  one 
nose  and  mouth  just  like  me.  Now,  I  wonder  why 
you  jilted  me  for  Lavender  ? 

Clement. 
You're  only  teasing  me,  aren't  you  ? 

Minnie. 

Oh  !  I  don't  condescend  to  tease  bad  men.  And 
what  a  very  Uttle  girl  she  is.  I  see,  it's  economy ; 
when  you're  married  you'll  only  keep  a  goat  chaise. 
\_Returni71g  the  photo.']  She  can't  weigh  much,  Clem, 

Clement. 

Less  than  my  heart  does  to-night,  Minnie.  She 
is  ill  —  suffering. 

Minnie. 

\_Compassionately.']  Poor  boy!  She'll  be  well 
to-morrow. 

Clement. 

If  anything  happened  to  part  us,  Minnie!  If 
I  lost  her  ! 

Minnie. 
Hush,  Clem  !     \_Taking  his  hand.']     I'll  tell  you. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  75 

When  a  girl  knows  she  is  loved  by  the  man  she  loves 
she  has  a  charmed  life  —  her  heart  carCt  stop.  If 
ever  the  elixir  vifce  is  discovered,  Clem,  it'll  turn 
out  to  be  a  bottle  of  something  to  keep  a  man  and 
a  woman  in  love  with  each  other.  There,  run  along 
and  put  its  pretty  things  on  for  the  theatre ! 

[^e  kisses  her  hand,  and  goes  into  his  bedroom. 

Minnie. 

[^Seeing  the  tea-thi7igs.~\  Tea  !  \_Putting  her  hand 
on  the  teapot.']  Hot !  I  must  take  to  tea  violently, 
now  I'm  going  to  be  an  old  maid.  To-morrow  I'll 
buy  a  kitten.  [There  is  a  rat-tat  at  the  outer  door.'] 
Mamma  !  What  a  scolding's  in  store  for  me  !  Oh, 
dear! 

[_She  goes  to  the  door  and  opens  it.  Horace 
Bream  is  outside  ;  he  is  in  evening  dress, 
and  carries  a  cane. 

Horace. 
Mr.  Hale  ? 

Minnie. 

\_Startled.]  Oh  !  [She  leaves  the  door  in  a  flut- 
ter.']    Horace  Bream  !     How  awkward  ! 

[Horace  closes  the  door  and  follows  her  into 
the  room. 

Horace. 
My  dear  Miss  Gilfillian  ! 

Minnie. 
[UneasUy.]     I   daresay    you're    surprised — *^ 


76  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

meet  —  me  —  here.     I  —  have    missed    mamma  — 
somehow.     Perhaps  you  will  call  again. 

Horace, 
Very  likely.     If  you  remember  I  was  here  yes- 
terday. 

Minnie. 

\Ein})arrassed.'\  I  mean,  Mr.  Hale  may  be  quite 
ten  minutes. 

Horace. 

I  shall  be  perfectly  charmed  if  he's  twenty. 

Minnie. 
\^Coldhj^     If  you  decide  to  wait,  Mr.  Hale  would 
like  you  to  sit  down,  I'm  sure. 

Horace. 
\Boioing.'\     I'm  sure  he  would. 

Minnie. 

\_Foxntmg  to  a  chair.']  D  —  don't  mind  me, 
please.  \_She  turns  away  abrujMy,  and  sits  at  writ- 
ing-table with  her  back  towards  Horace.  To  her- 
self.'] A  man's  the  last  creature  to  recognise  the 
possibility  of  his  being  de  trop. 

Horace. 

\_Moodily,  to  himself,  as  he  sits  on  the  arm  of  the 
armchair.]  Well,  the  formality  of  an  unmarried 
lady  in  England  is  perfectly  chilling. 


here. 


Minnie. 
[To  herself]     What  does  he  think  of  my  being 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  77 

Horace. 

\To  himself .'\  I  can't  —  I  can't  endure  this  a 
minute  longer. 

\_He  crosses  to  the  sofa,  where  he  sits  watching 
Minnie. 

Minnie. 

[To  herself. '\  How  embarrassing  !  I  wish  I  was 
buried ! 

Horace. 

[To  himself]  If  this  continues  for  another  five 
seconds  I  shall  shriek  aloud. 

Minnie. 

I'll  put  a  bold  face  on  the  matter  —  an  American 
girl  would  be  equal  to  twice  this.  [^Looking  angrily 
at  the  hack  of  the  armchair,  in  which  she  supposes 
Horace  to  be,  while  he  watches  her  with  curiosity.] 
Bother !  [Horace  rises  in  surprise,  and  Minnie, 
peeping  over  the  back  of  the  chair,  finds  it  empty  and 
turns,  facing  Horace  with  a  gasp.]  Oh  !  [Zn.  con- 
fusion.] Pray  excuse  my  having  left  you  for  a 
moment.     Will  you  have  some  tea  ?  [^Sitting. 

Horace. 

\_Resuming  his  seat.]  I  shall  be  perfectly  de- 
lighted. [^To  himself]  In  English  society  while 
there  is  tea  there  is  hope. 

Minnie. 
Sugar  ? 

Horace. 

Thank  you.  [Cheerfully  to  himself]  We  have 
fairly  started. 


78  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Minnie. 

And  milk  ? 

Horace. 

\_After  bowing  assent.']  We  are  a  perfect  Con- 
gress. 

I\tlNNIE. 

[To  herself.]  I  wonder  what  he  wants  with  Clem. 
[To  Horace.]  So  glad  you  called  to  consult  Mr. 
Hale. 

Horace. 
Consult  ? 

Minnie. 

[Handing  him  a  cup  of  tea.]  He's  studying  for 
the  bar,  you  know.     I  thought  perhaps  — 

Horace. 

Oh,  yes,  certainly.  I  require  his  opinion  on  a 
matter  of  extreme  delicacy. 

Minnie. 
[Looking  away  chilled.]     Oh  ! 

Horace. 
[Watching  her  over  his  cup.]    Congress  has  risen. 
[Leaning  towards  her.]      Will  you  permit  me  to 
acquaint  you  with  my  delicate  business  ? 

Minnie. 

[Very  coldly.]  Oh,  really,  Mr.  Bream,  I  —  I 
think  — 

Horace. 
Miss  Gilfillian,  you  are  my  delicate  business. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  79 

Minnie. 
\Rising  quickly  and  haughtily.^     Indeed  ! 

Horace. 
[^Contemplating  her.]  Now,  how  thorou,?hly 
characteristic  that  is  of  this  old  country.  [Rising 
with  his  hat  and  cane.]  Miss  Gilfillian.  [He  goes 
to  her  —  she  moves  away.  He  retreats,  carefully 
choosing  his  position  by  selecting  a  particular  spot  in 
the  pattern  of  the  carpet  with  the  end  of  his  cane.] 
Miss  Giliilliau,  the  time  I  have  spent  in  your  so- 
ciety and  in  that  of  your  delightful  mother  has 
been  extremely  fascinating  to  me 

Minnie. 

[Distantly.  ]  Oh,  thank  you.  [Advancing  a  step 
or  two.]  I  need  not  say  I  shall  always  remember 
gratefully  the  service  you  rendered  me  in  Paris. 

Horace. 

Pray  don't  allude  to  that.  I  —  [He  goes  towards 
her ;  she  retreats  to  her  former  position.  After  a 
slight  pause,  he  identifies  his  particular  spot  on  the 
carpet  and  returns  to  it.]  But,  Miss  Gilfillian,  I 
cert'nly  did  hope  that  those  enchanting  moments 
in  Nice  and  in  Monte  Carlo,  where  I  had  the  honour 
of  instructing  you  in  Trente  et  Quarante,  might  be 
continued  in  this  —  dear  old  country.  And  that's 
why  I'm  here  to  consult  my  friend  Hale. 

Minnie. 
[Firing  up.]     Pray,  what  has  Mr.   Hale  to  do 
with  it  ? 


8o  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Horace. 
Miss  Gilfillian,  you  drove  in  the  park  yesterday 
—  with  my  friend  Hale. 

Minnie. 

Certainly. 

Horace. 

I  was  there  —  hanging  on  to  the  railings.  You 
were  at  Cristofaro's  concert  in  the  evening  —  with 
my  friend  Hale. 

Minnie. 
[Haughtily.']     I  was. 

Horace. 
I  was  there  —  half  over  the  balcony. 

Minnie. 

Eeally  —  I  — 

Horace. 

This  morning  you  were  in  and  out  all  the  stores 
in  Bond  Street  —  I  was  balancing  myself  on  the 
curb.  You  had  luncheon  at  a  restaurant  in  Picca- 
dilly, where  they  sell  flies  and  other  candies.  It 
was  there  I  partook  of  a  last  season's  ice. 

Minnie. 
\Losing  her  temper.']     Oh ! 

Horace. 
I  followed  to  every  picture  gallery  within  a  mile 
of   the  Burlington,  m  the  dark    rooms    of    which 
I  had  a  peaceful  time.     In  fact,  Miss  Gilfillian,  I 
have  the  honour  to  be  always  with  you. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  8l 

Minnie. 
\_Angrily'\.     I  never  see  you,  sir. 

Horace. 
I  trust  I  know  better  than  to  intrude. 

Minnie. 
Where  do  you  learn  our  movements  ? 

Horace. 

At  the  hotel. 

Minnie. 

[^Indignantly.']       You   present   yourself   at   our 
hotel ! 

Horace. 

You  are  staying  at  my  hotel. 

Minnie. 

Oh !     On  the  same  floor,  I  presume. 

Horace. 

No. 

Minnie. 

\_Sarcasticalhj.~\     Thank  you. 

Horace. 

I  occupy   the   room  immediately  beneath  your 
own. 

Minnie. 

To  listen  to  my  movements  ! 


82  SIVEET  LAVENDER 

Horace. 
To  enjoy  the  consolation  of  conjecture. 

Minnie. 
Oh  !     I  can't  tell  you  how  indignant  I  am ! 

Horace. 

[To  himself.']  Well,  I  never  thought  a  man 
could  enjoy  so  much  conversation  with  a  young 
unmarried  lady  in  this  —  old  country. 

Minnie. 
Oh  !     May  I  ask  where  you're  going  to-night  ? 

Horace. 

I  have  a  stall  for  the  Cabinet  Theatre. 

[  With  a  blank  look  Minnie  sinks  upon  the 
sofa. 

Minnie. 
I  shall  tell  Mr.  Hale. 

Horace. 

Ah,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  tell  Mr.  Hale. 
I'm  here  for  that  purpose.  I'm  here  to  ask  my 
friend  Hale  whether  he's  fortunate  enough  to  be 
engaged  to  the  most  fascinating  lady  I  have  ever 
known  :  and  if  he  says  Yes,  I  start  for  N' York  on 
Saturday. 

Minnie. 

\^SorriJied.'\     But  if  he  says  No  ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  83 

Horace. 
Then  I  shall  ask  permission  to  rejoin  your  most 
delightful  party. 

Minnie. 
Oh! 

Clement  enters,  dressed  for  the  theatre. 

Clement. 
Half-past  eight. 

[Minnie,  much  disturbed,  runs  up  to  him. 

Minnie. 
Clement,  here  is  that  Mr.  Bream. 

Clement. 
Eh?     [^Seeing  Horace  and  nodding  distantly.'] 
How  d'ye  do  ? 

[Horace    returns    Clement's    salutation 
with  a  genial  wave  of  the  hand. 

Horace. 
How  are  you  ? 

Clement. 
{^Softly  to  Minnie.]     What's  he  doing  here  ? 

Minnie. 

[To  Clement.]  Just  what  he  does  everywhere. 
He's  the  original  little  old  man  of  the  sea  !  \Stamp- 
ing  her  foot.]  He  —  he  must  be  awfully  lond  of 
mamma  ! 

Clement. 

[To  himself]     We  can't  snub  him  after  his  splen- 


84  SWEET  LAVENDER 

did  behaviour  in  Paris.  Poor  fellow  !  I  wonder  if 
he  would  join  our  theatre  party.  [To  Horace,] 
We're  going  to  the  Cabinet  Theatre,  Mr,  Bream. 
I'm  sure  my  aunt  will  be  very  pleased  to  see  you  in 
her  box,  if  you  — 

Minnie. 
Oh! 

Clement. 
It  holds  four, 

Horace, 

[_Sha]dng  hands  with   Clement.]     Sir,  it  shall 
hold  one  who  is  eternally  obliged  to  you. 

Minnie. 

[Distractedly.']     It's  Fate  ! 

Enter  Dick,  in  dilapidated  erwning  dress,  old  opera 
hat  and  seedy  gloves. 

Clement, 
[Surprised.]     Why,  Dick  —  I  — 

Dick. 

Hadn't  the  heart  to  disoblige  you,  Clement,  my 
boy. 

Clement. 

I  have  just  asked  Mr.  Bream  to  take  the  fourth 
seat  in  the  box. 

Minnie. 

I'm  sure  Mr.  Bream  will  see  that  Mr.  Phenyl  has 
the  first  claim. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  85 

Horace. 

[Bo%ving.'\  Oh,  cert'nly.  [To  himself.']  That's 
just  cruel,  anyway. 

Dick. 

[Clapping  his  hat  on  the  mantelpiece  and  hastily 
removing  his  gloves.']  Coulda't  think  of  it !  Happy 
release  for  all  parties. 

Horace. 
[Throiving  his  hat  in  the  air  and  catching  it.]    Ha ! 

Minnie. 

[To  herself.]     It  w  Fate  ! 

[There  is  a  very  pronounced  rat-tat-fai  at 
the  outer  door. 

Minnie. 
My  mamma ! 

Horace. 
[To  himself]     And,  I  hope,  mine. 

Clement. 
[To  Dick.]     That's  aunt,  Dick. 

Dick. 

Auntie,  undoubtedly. 

Clement. 
[Hesitatingly.]     Will  you  —  er  ? 

Dick. 

No,  Clement,  my  boy.  I  opened  the  door  last  — 
your  turn. 


86  SWEET  LAVENDER 

[Dick  joins  Horace  and  Minnie.  Clem- 
ent goes  to  the  door  and  02Jens  it.  Mrs. 
GiLFiLLiAN  is  seen  outside,  dressed  for 
the  theatre. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Clement !     Is  Minnie  here  ? 

Clement. 
Yes,  aunt.     Won't  you  come  in? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Come  in?     Of  course  I'll  come  in.     [Entering.] 
Minnie  ! 

Minnie. 
Mamma ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Indi(j7iantli/.]     Don't    speak  to  me  !     A  young 
girl !     You  who  taught  in  a  Sunday-school  at  Barn- 
chester.     Don't  speak  to  me  !     What  have  you  to 
say  for  yourself  ? 

Clement. 

[Arranging  the  armchair  for  her."]      My   dear 
aunt  — 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Go  away,  Clement.    [Breathlessly,  sinking  into  the 
armchai7'.]     How  did  you  get  here  ? 

Minnie. 
A  hansom,  mamma. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
How  dare  you  !     An  unmarried  girl  in  a  hansom  ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  87 

Minnie. 
They're  quicker  than  four-wheelers,  mamma. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Quicker!      They're    faster.      I   never   drove    in 
hansoms  alone  till  I  was  thirty-three,  and  then  I 
made  the  driver  promise  not  to  look  at  me  through 
the  roof. 

Minnie. 

They  never  do  that  when  you're  alone.     Mamma 

—  \_coaxing^  —  and,  indeed,  I'm  very  sorry. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Sorry  ! 

Minnie. 
I  wanted  to  speak  to  Clement  —  just  by  ourselves 

—  there  ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
You  haven't  quarrelled ! 

Minnie. 
Quarrelled !     No.     We   understand   each   other 
better  now  than  we  have  ever  done. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Patting  Minnie's  cheek  approvingly.]     Perhaps 
I've  been  a  little  too  cross  with  you.     [In  a  whis- 
per.']    But  you  must  tell   me  everything   to-night 
before  you  close  your  eyes.     Mind  —  everything! 

Minnie. 

Yes  —  everything ! 


88  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Triumphantly,  to   herself.']      It's   settled!     I'm 
sure  of  it ! 

Clement. 

[Looldng  at  his  tvatch.]     Shall  we  start,  aunt  ? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Looking  at  him  beaminghj,  and  boxing  his  ears 
plaTjfulhj  with  her  fan.]  The  carriage  is  waiting. 
You  bad  boy  ! 

[Unnoticed,  Dick  stands  looking  on. 

Clement. 

I  hope  you'll  forgive  me,  aunt,  for  providing  a 
fourth  occupant  to  your  box. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Not  that  Mr.  Funnel ! 

Dick. 
No. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Txirning:]  Oh  !  [To  Dick  apologetically.]  I  — 
really  —  I  — 

Clement. 
Mr.  Bream,  aunt ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Turning  ronnd  and  coming  face  to  face  with 
Horace.]     Mr.  Bream  ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  89 

[Horace  talks  to  Mrs.  Gilfillian,  Dick 
chuckling  at  them. 

Minnie. 

[^Quietly  to  Clement.]  Clem,  I  must  ask  your 
advice  about  Mr.  Bream,  directly. 

Clement. 

Delighted.  [Assisting  Minnie  to  put  on  mantle."] 
Bream,  will  you  drive  on  with  my  aunt  to  the 
theatre  ?  Minnie  and  I  want  to  walk  up  to  Brigg's, 
the  florist's  by  Middle  Temple  Gate.  We'll  follow 
you  in  a  cab. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[To  herself.]  They  have  settled  it !  [Shaking  her 
fail  at  Clement.]  Ah  —  h  —  h !  you  sly  boy.  [Good 
hiimouredly  taking  Horace's  aryn.]  We're  encum- 
brances.    Come  along,  Mr.  Bream ! 

Horace. 

[Ruefully  to  himself]     Damn ! 

[He  takes  Mrs.    Gilfillian   out,  leaving 
the  door  open. 

Clement. 

Good-night,  Dick.  [  Warningly.]  Word  of  hon- 
our as  usual ! 

Dick. 

[To  Clement,  loftily.]  Word  of  honour,  as  usual, 
Clement,  my  boy. 


90  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Minnie. 

Good-night,  Mr.  Phenyl.     So  sorry  you  are  not 
coining  with  us.     Is  the  florist's  far  ? 

Dick. 

Two  minutes. 

Clement. 
We  can  make  it  ten  by  going  round.     It's  a  fine 
night. 

\As  Minnie  and  Clement  go  out,  Bulger 
passes  them  and  enters  hastily. 

Clement. 
[Outside.']     Ah  !  Mr.  Bulger. 

[Clement  closes  the  door.  Dick  turns  and 
almost  catches  Bulger  in  his  arms. 
Bulger,  who  is  dressed  in  his  best,  is 
very  agitated. 

Bulger. 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

What's  the  matter  ? 

[Bulger  drojjs  faintly  into  the  armchair, 
and  wipes  his  brow  with  a  coloured  hand- 
kerchief. 

Bulger. 

Excuse  me  for  setting,  sir ;  oh  !  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

I  wish  yon  wouldn't  look  as  if  you  expected  me 
to  shave  you,  Bulger.     You're  not  ill,  I  hope  ? 


SWEET  LAVENDER  9I 

Bulger. 

You  and  me  has  known  Mrs.  Rolt  the  same  len'th 
o'  time,  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

What  of  her  ? 

Bulger. 

There's  no  need  for  secrecy  no  longer,  sir.  I  'ave 
regarded  Mrs.  Rolt  very  deeply  for  years,  sir. 

Dick. 
Bulger ! 

Bulger. 
Ridickleous  it  seems,  most  likely — I  don't  deny  it. 

Dick. 
Of  course  it's  ridiculous. 

Bulger. 

\Angrxly?\  I  tell  you  I  don't  deny  it,  sir !  But 
it's  'ard  to  keep  our  place  in  this  world  when  the 
place  is  a  mean  small  one,  and  I  'ave  so  far  forgot 
myself  concerning  Ruth  Rolt  as  to  drop  into  poetry. 

\He  'produces  a  folded  paper  from  his  hat. 
Dick  shrinks  away. 

Dick. 
No! 

Bulger. 

Don't  fear,  sir.  But  this  ev'ning  while  'anging 
about  the  railin's  downstairs  —  more  like  a  thief 
than  an  old-established  hairdresser  —  'oping  for  a 


92  SWEET  LAVENDER 

cliauce  to  slip  this  into  Mrs.  R.'s  'and,  I  —  I  saw 
what's  brought  rae  up  to  you,  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 
What  have  you  seen,  Bulger  ? 

BuiiGER. 

Peerin'  over  the  top  of  the  blind  I  see  her  little 
hornaments  vanished  from  the  mantelpiece,  sir, 
and  her  few  pictures  took  down  —  and  —  and  — 

Dick. 

Bulger  !  what  does  it  mean  ? 

Bulger. 

It  honly  means  one  thing  to  my  mind.  Ruth 
Rolfs  a-goin',  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

Going !     Going  away  ! 

Bulger. 
\I'acing   distractedly   up    and    down   the   room.~\ 
Goin',  after  all  these  years. 

Dick. 

Wait! 

[Dick  nins  excitedly  up  to  the  outer  door, 
opens  it  and  goes  out.  He  returns  di- 
rectly, drawing  the  ctirtain  over  the  pas- 
sage opening. 

Dick. 
^Breathlessly,  holding  the  curtain.^     Bulger  ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  93 

Dick. 
[Pointing  to  the  door  of  his  bedroom.^     Get  out  of 
the  way  !     Wait  iu  that  room. 

[Bulger  goes  into  Dick's  bedroom.  The 
curtain  is  then  jyushed  aside  and  Ruth, 
in  outgoing  attire,  looks  in. 

Ruth. 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

[With  assumed  lightness.']     Ah,  Ruth! 

Ruth. 
I've  seen  Mr.  Hale  go  out  with  his  friends ;  is 
there  any  chance  of  his  returning  till  late  ? 

Dick. 

They're  off  to  the  play.  He  won't  be  back  till 
past  eleven.  [She  drops  the  curtain. 

Dick. 

What's  this  ?     What's  this  ? 

Ruth. 
[Outside,  calling  softly.']     Lavender !     Lavender ! 

Dick. 

Lavender  !  [Ruth  pushes  aside  the  curtain  and 
enters  with  Lavender,  who  is  also  dressed  for  going 
out,  while  her  face  is  pale,  her  eyes  red  with  weeping.^ 

Why,  Lavvy  ! 


94 


SWEET  LAVENDER 


KUTH. 

\Fressing  Lavender  to  heri\  Don't  speak  to 
her.     She  can't  bear  it. 

Dick. 
Ruth,  what  are  you  doing  ? 

Ruth. 

Running  away,  people  will  call  it ;  but  we're  out 
of  debt,  so  that  doesn't  matter.  We've  come  to 
say — good-bye,  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

Good-bye,  Ruth  !     Not  good-bye  ! 

[Lavendek  gives  a  little  cry  of  pain  ;  Ruth 
places  her  in  the  armchair,  then  speaks 
to  Dick  apart. 

Ruth. 

You've  been  a  kind  friend  to  us  for  fifteen  years, 
Mr.  Phenyl,  but  I'd  have  gone  without  troubling 
you,  because  you  won't  understand.  But  Lavvy 
begged  so  hard  to  look  at  this  room  once  more,  and 
I  trust  you  not  to  hinder  us  ;  T  know  I  can  trust  you. 

\_Sh6  leaves  him  and  leans  her  head  on  the 
hack  of  the  chair,  weeping. 

Dick. 
You're  not  going  to  hide  yourselves  away  from 
Mr.  Hale  ?  [Lavender  starts  up  with  a  cry. 

Lavender, 

Oh,  yes,  yes! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  95 

Ruth. 
Mr.  Hale !  Why  did  he  ever  come  here  to  bring 
this  sorrow  ou  me  —  to  rob  me  of  ray  little  girl's 
love  ?  What  is  Mr.  Hale  to  me  ?  I  was  rich  before 
he  came,  because  of  her.  My  poor  rooms  were  warm 
and  well-furnished  —  all  because  of  her.  Yester- 
day any  grand  lady  might  have  envied  me  —  be- 
cause of  her.     [Indignantly.']     Mr.  Hale,  indeed ! 

Lavender. 

Mother !  I'm  doing  what  you  ask  me,  without 
complaining.  But  don't  —  don't  speak  against  Mr. 
Hale  any  more. 

Dick. 

[Fiercely.']  Speak  against  Mr.  Hale  !  Who  does  ? 
Ruth,  who's  at  the  bottom  of  this  ?  I'll  know  — 
I'll  know,  before  I  let  this  boy's  heart  be  broken  as 

well  as  Lavvy's ! 

[Lavender  goes  to  Dick  mid  lays  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  sobbing. 

Lavender. 

Oh,  Mr.  Phenyl !  Will  it  break  his  heart  ?  Will 
it  — will  it? 

Ruth. 

[To  Dick,  despairingly.]  You'll  undo  all  I've 
done.     Don't !  don't ! 

[Dick  puts  Lavender  from  him  gently.     She 
goes  a7id  sits  weeping  on  the  window  seat. 

Dick. 
Now,  looV.  here,  Ruth  Rolt ! 


96  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Ruth. 
Hush !  Mr.  Phenyl,  I'm  deceiving  her ! 

Dick. 
Deceiving  her  ? 

E.UTH. 

I'm  forcing  her  to  do  this  !  I've  begged  to  her, 
gone  down  on  my  knees  to  her,  made  her  promise 
not  to  forsake  me.  I've  told  her  that  if  Mr.  Hale 
married  her,  his  rich  friends  would  turn  their  backs 
on  him,  and  that  he'd  soon  weary  of  a  wife  who'd 
brought  him  only  poverty.  I've  taught  her  that  a 
true  woman  best  proves  her  love  for  a  man  by  think- 
ing of  his  future.  But,  Heaven  forgive  me,  that's 
not  why  I'm  doing  this  —  that's  not  why ! 

Dick. 

Then  there's  no  reason  at  all,  Ruth,  and  you 
sha'n't  do  it !     I  say,  you  sha'n't  do  it ! 

Ruth. 

Oh,  pity  me !  I'll  tell  you  !  If  Lavender  ever 
married  Mr.  Hale  she  would  have  to  be  told  the 
secret  of  my  life. 

Dick. 

\In  a  whisper. '\     The  secret,  Ruth ! 

Ruth. 

Yes.  I  pray  for  all  women  who  hug  such  a  secret 
to  their  bosom  as  I  have  always  with  me  to  keep  me 
company.  It  would  have  worn  me  out  years  ago 
but  for  one  blessing,  one  consolation  —  my  child's 


SWEET  LAVENDER  97 

respect  for  her  mother.  I've  no  right  to  it,  but  it 
has  made  my  life  endurable,  even  happy,  and  —  im- 
agine what  it  would  be  for  me  to  lose  it  now  ! 

[Dick  holds  out  his  hand;  she  turns  and 
takes  it. 

Dick. 

[Falteri?i(/l(/.']  Euth,  did  I  speak  crossly  to  you  ? 
Kuth,  did  I  ?  I  —  I'm  sorry  ;  Lord  forgive  me  — 
what  a  trouble  and  a  worry  I've  been  to  you  these 
fifteen  years ! 

[Ruth  leans  upon  the  armchair,  weeping. 
Lavender  comes  to  Dick. 

Lavender. 
\_Faintli/.']     IVIother,  may  I  sit  with  Mr.  Phenyl, 
if  he'll  let  me,  till  it's  time  for  us  to  start  ? 

Dick. 

[Patting  her  head.'\  Of  course,  Lavvy  —  of 
course. 

Euth. 

[In  a  whisper  to  Dick.]  Oh,  tell  her  that  what 
I  do  is  right.  I  know  she'll  never  love  me  again 
as  she  has  loved  me  ;  but  be  my  friend  and  defend 
me,  Mr.  Phenyl.  [To  Lavender,  as  she  is  going 
towards  the  door.']     In  ten  minutes,  Lavender. 

Lavender. 
Yes,  mother. 

Dick. 
[Following  Euth.]     You  won't  confide    in    me 
where  you're  goiug,  Ruth  ? 


98  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Ruth. 

Don't  ask  me  —  even  she  doesn't  know  yet. 
Good-bye. 

Dick. 

{Taking  her  hand.'l  Ah,  Ruth  —  fifteen  years  ^ 
fifteen  years. 

Ruth. 

[Tear/w/^y.]  I  remember  many,  many  kindnesses 
to  me  and  my  little  one.  \Tiaising  his  hand  to  her 
lips.']     Good-bye,  Mr.  Phenyl.  \^She  goes  out. 

Dick. 

[To  himself,  as  he  goes  to  the  aTrmchair  and  sinks 
into  it.']  Good-bye,  Ruth,  good-bye.  Fifteen  years  I 
Fifteen  years ! 

Lavender. 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 
Lavender ! 

Lavender. 

Is  it  true,  Mr.  Phenyl  ? 

Dick. 
Is  what  true  ? 

Lavender. 

Mother  says  that  Mr.  Hale's  friends  would  turn 
against  him  if  he  married  me  ;  would  they  ?  She 
says  that  he'd  dote  on  me  for  a  time,  and  treat  me 
like  a  child  does  a  doll,  and  then  he'd  grow  tired 
of  me  and  fret  for  what  he'd  lost  by  choosing  a  toy- 
wife  instead  of  a  lady.     Is  that  true,  Mr.  Phenyl  ? 


SWEET  LAVENDER  99 

Dick. 
\_Distressed.']     Lavvy,  you  do  ask  such  questions  ! 

Lavender. 

You  know  him  very  well ;  perhaps  he's  talked  to 
you  a  little  about  me.  I'll  believe  you  if  you  tell 
me  I'm  not  fit  for  him.  Is  it  true,  Mr.  Phenyl,  is 
it  true  ? 

\^She  breaks  down,  and  sinking  on  her  knees, 
bows  her  head  on  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
and  sobs. 

Dick. 
\Hesitatingly.'\     Lavvy  —  I  — 

Lavender. 
[^Crying. '\     Oh,  it's  not  true,  is  it  ? 

Dick. 

[  With  an  effort.]     Yes,  Lavvy,  it's  true. 

Lavender. 
[Faintly.]     Oh ! 

Dick. 

It's  the  way  of  the  world  for  poverty  to  make  us 
sour  and  unjust ;  and  if  Clem  came  to  grief  he 
might  lay  it  at  the  door  of  the  little  doll's  house 
which  contained  the  little  doll  he'd  married. 

Lavender. 

[Rising,  and  drawing  back.]  Oh,  I  don't  believe 
that  of  Clem. 


loo  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 
\Starting  up  and  folloiving  her.]     No  —  nor  I ! 

Lavender. 

Ah! 

Dick. 

[Checkiriff  himself.']  But  —  your  mother  knows 
better  than  Ave  do  !  —  your  mother  knows  better 
than  we  do !  So  you  must  go  downstairs  now, 
Lavvy.  It's  quite  time  you  went  downstairs  to 
your  mother. 

Lavender. 

I  wanted  you  to  let  me  write  a  letter  here,  just 
saying  good-bye  to  Clement ;  but  now  you  send  me 
downstairs. 

Dick. 

[2fot  looking  at  her.]     Be  quick,  then,  be  quick. 

Lavender. 

Yes,  I'll  be  quick. 

[_S?ie  goes  to  the  writing-tahle,  and  sits  writ- 
ing. 

Dick. 

[^Eyeing  Lavender,  guiltily.]  I'm  behaving  re- 
markably well  to  Clement,  I  am.  I'm  a  valuable 
friend  for  a  young  gentleman  to  board  with  and 
confide  in,  I  flatter  myself !     Ugh  ! 

Lavender. 
[^Writing.]     "  My  dear  —  my  dear  —  "     [To  ?ier- 
self.]     How  can  I  call  him  my  dear ;  he's  not  my 
dear ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  loi 

[/SAe  sobs.  Dick  hears  her  and  starts,  put- 
ting his  fingers  in  his  ears. 

Dick. 

[^Helplessly. ^     Why  did  I  promise  to  help  Ruth  ? 

Lavender. 
Oh,  Clement,  Clement! 

Dick. 

[To  himself.^     Poor  Clem  !     I  shall  never  be  able 
to  look  him  in  the  face  again.     I  —  I  — 

\_He  works  his  mouth  as  if  his  tongue  were  dry, 
then  desperately  looks  into  the  teapot. 

Lavender. 

[  Writing.]      "  It's    for   your   good  —  I'm    going 
away."     [  With  another  sob.]     Ah  1 

Dick. 

[Shutting  the  lid  of  the  teapot.]     Empry. 

[Jfe  starts  up,  looks  round  quickly,  then  goes 
to  the  sideboard,  stoojnng  doivn  and  open- 
ing the  cupboard,  while  he  glances  over 
his  shoulder  at  Lavender. 

Lavender. 

[Resting  her  head  upon  the  table."]     Oh,  I  can't. 
I  can't. 

[Dick  takes  a  decanter  of  whiskey  and  the 
carafe  and  tumbler  from  the  sideboard 
and  brings  them  to  the  table. 


I02  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dick. 

[To  himself.']  The  last  time,  Clement,  my  boy 
—  the  last  time.  [He  pours  some  whiskey  into  the 
tumbler  and  gulps  it.  It  makes  him  cough :  he  looks 
round  at  Lavendek  guiltily,  then  draws  the  left  side 
of  the  large  curtain  over  the  opening  to  the  further 
rooynl\  Only  a  thimbleful,  Clement,  my  boy. 
[Pouring  out  more  ivhiskey  and  drinking  it;  then 
sitting  and  staring  at  the  tumbler.']  I  —  I've  broken 
my  word  to  Clement.  [Drinking.]  If  Clem  were 
to  come  back  now  by  chance  he'd  see  me  — .  [Sud- 
denly.] He'd  see  her — .  Oh!  [He  drains  his 
glass  and  rises  excitedly.]  Clemen',  my  boy  1  Why 
shouldn't  you  come  back  now  —  by  chance  ?  [He 
goes  to  the  table  and  scribbles  a  few  words  on  a  pjiece 
of  paper,  which  he  hastily  encloses  in  an  envelope. 
Bulger  !  Where  did  I  put  Bulger  ?  [Recollecting.' 
Bulger  !  [Going  hastily  to  the  door  of  his  bedroom, 
opening  it,  and  calling  in  a  whisj^er.]  Bulger! 
[BuLGEK  appears  in  the  doorway.  Dick  seizes  him 
and  gives  him  the  note.]  Run  up  to  Brigg's,  the 
florist.  If  you  catch  Mr.  Hale  there,  give  him  that. 
Run,  Bulger,  run  —  run  !  [He  hurries  Bulger  out.' 
Now,  I've  broken  my  word  to  poor  Ruth.  [  Weakly.' 
Bulger!  [Going  to  the  door  again,  opening  it,  and 
calling  faintly.]     Bulger?     Don't  run  —  walk! 

Mr.  Maw,  a  white-haired  old  gentleman  in  an  In- 
verness cape,  ivith  a  crisp,  dry  manner  of  speak- 
ing, appears  outside. 

Maw. 

Oh,  I'm  lucky,  Mr.  Phenyl.      May  I  speak  to 
you  on  a  matter  of  great  importance  ? 


SWEET  LAVENDER  103 

Dick. 
^Closing  the  door.']     Mr.  Maw,  I  think  ?  ' 

Maw. 

Yes.  I  am  very  late  in  leaving  my  oflBce  to-night, 
and  seeing  your  light  in  your  window  — .  [Staring 
at  Dick.]     I  hope  you're  well  ? 

Dick. 
\_Draiving  himself  up  with  dignity.']     Qui'  well, 
than'g  you.     Take  a  chair. 

Maw. 
[Sitting  — to  himself.]     This  man  is  in  his  usual 
condition,  I'm  afraid. 

Dick. 

[Drawing  the  right  side  of  the  large  curtain  to 
meet  the  left  side,  completely  hiding  the  further  room 
from  view.]  Excuse  me,  Lavvy  — two  minutes  — 
two  minutes. 

[He  walks  with  rather  uncertain  steps  to  a 
chair  and  sits,  mixing  some  whiskey  and 
water. 

Maw. 

[Taking  some  papers  from  his  pocket  —  eyeing 
Dick.]     Well,  well,  perhaps  it's  better !    I  really 

pity  him. 

Dick. 

[Drinking.]     Broken  my  word  to  Buth. 

Maw. 
[Selecting  from  his  papers  a  letter  with  a  deep 
mourning  border.]     Mr.  Phenyl. 


104  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

[  With  a  wave  of  the  hand,  towards  the  decanter.^ 
Join  me  ? 

Maw. 
\_Sharply.'\     No,  thank  you. 

Dick. 

No.  [  Getting  quite  muddled.']  If  you  don't  take 
weak  drop  whiskey  an'  wa'er  after  the  labours  of 
the  day,  when  do  you  take  weak  drop  whiskey  an' 
wa'er  ? 

Maw. 

Never,  sir.  Mr.  Phenyl,  your  late  mother's 
brother,  Mr.  Vipout  — 

Dick. 

Uncle  George.  [^Snapping  his  fingers  indignantly.'] 
I  washed  my  ban's  of  him  twen'y  years  ago — on 
account  of  his  habits.     I  should  say  my  habits. 

\_Drinking  again. 
Maw. 
If  you'd  kindly  postpone  your  —  supper  till  I've 
gone  I  should  feel  obliged.     Mr.  Phenyl,  you  will 
regret  to  hear  that  Mr.  Vipont  is  dead. 

[Dick  has  his  glass  to  his  lips  —  he  replaces 
it  upon  the  table. 

Dick. 

[  Whimpering.]  Poor  Uncle  George  !  A  violent- 
tempered  man,  Mr.  Maw  —  all  blame,  blame ;  but 
praise,  oh  dear,  no!  [With  a  hiccough.]  Much 
might  have  been  done  by  kindness. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  105 

Maw. 

\_Shortly.'\  Whatever  lack  of  toleration  your 
uncle  displayed  towards  you,  Mr.  Phenyl,  he  ne- 
glected to  destroy  a  will  made  years  ago  entirely 
in  your  favour. 

Dick. 

{Rising  unsteadily.']  My  fav'ah  !  Will  in  —  my 
fav'ah !     My ! 

Maw. 
[Raising  his  hand.]     But,  Mr.  Phenyl  — 

Dick. 

[Swaying  to  ayid  fro  over  IMaw.]  But !  Oh,  I 
p'ceive.  My  poor  uncle  resembled  his  poor  nephew 
—  never  thought  of  the  rainy  day  when  he'd  want 
a  pound  or  two  to  die  with. 

Maw. 

I  beg  your  pardon.  I  have  a  schedule  here  of 
bonds  and  other  easily  negotiable  securities,  depos- 
ited with  his  bankers,  of  the  value  of  twenty-five 
thousand  pounds. 

Dick. 

[  With  his  hand  to  his  head.]  Wai' !  Wai' ! 
Twen'y-five  thousan' — 

Maw. 

Beyond  that  I  trace  a  further  fifteen  thousand 
entrusted  to  these  bankers  for  investment  at  their 
discretion. 

[Dick  falls  into  his  chair  and  gulps  at  his 
drink. 


io6  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

\_Incoherenth/.']  Twen'y-fiv^e  thousan'  —  fifteen 
thousau'  —  for'y  thousau'  — 

Maw. 

But,  Mr.  Phenyl,  I've  not  yet  told  you  every- 
thing. 

Dick. 

[Waving  him  away."]  For'y  thousan'  —  that's 
sufficient ! 

Maw. 

I've  told  you  that  Mr.  Vipont's  fortune  was  in 
the  hands  of  his  hankers. 

Dick. 

[Drinking.']     Long  life  to  the  bankers  ! 

Maw. 

It  is  the  old  tale,  sir  —  over-speculation,  tempta- 
tion, false  balance  sheets.  To-day  the  doors  of  the 
bank  to  which  Mr.  Vipont  entrusted  his  fortune 
have  been  finally  closed. 

Dick. 
Broke  ! 

Maw. 

[Producing  a  telegram.]  This  telegram  informs 
me  that  two  of  the  partners  have  absconded.  It's 
a  bad  business,  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

[Blankly.']  Flight  of  —  for'y  —  thousan'  part- 
ners !  [Taking  the  telegram  from  Maw  and  look- 
ing   at    it    stupidly.]     Uncle     George's    fortune. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  107 

\B,ustling  the  telegram  and  looking  through  it  as  if 
tt  were  a  bank-note.^  Largest  bank-note  I've  ever 
had  in  my  life. 

[^Sticking  the  telegram  in  his  waistcoat  pocket, 
Dick  staggers  across  the  room  as  the  door 
opens  and  Clement  enters  with  Dick's 
note  in  his  hand. 

Clement. 
[^Breathlessly.^     Dick ! 

Dick. 

Clemen',  my  boy ! 

[Clement  comes  upon  Dick  toho  is  sitting 
helplessli/  on  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

Clement. 

[^Starting  hack.']     Dick  !     You've  been  —  drink- 
ing! 

Dick. 

No.     [Pointing  to  Maw.]     My  s'litor,  Mr.  Maw, 

Maw. 

[BnLsquely.]     Mr.  Phenyl  isn't  very  well,  I'm 
afraid. 

Dick. 

[To  Maw.]     The  spirits  are  with  you,  Mr.  Maw. 

Maw. 
I'll  see  Mr.  Phenyl  in  the  morning. 

[Maw  goes  out  and  shuts  door. 


io8  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Clement. 
\_Pulling  Dick  up-l     Dick,  speak  to  me !    What's 
the  meaning  of  this  note  ? 

Dick. 

Ban'g  note,  Clemen'.     For'y  thousan'  pounds. 

Clement. 
\_Shaking  Dick's  arm.']     Dick!   there's   no  bad 
news  of  Lavender. 

Dick. 
\_SUghtly  reviving.']     Lavender  !    Oh  —  I  remem- 
ber.    [^Pointing  toward  the  curtains.]     Impor'ant 
letter  from  Lavender  in  the  nex'  room. 

Clement. 
A  letter !     Thank  you  for  sending  after  me,  but 
I  wouldn't  have  come  back  to  see  you  like  this, 
not  even  for  a  letter  from  Lavender.     Dick,  I'll 
never  trust  you  again  ! 

\_He  goes  through  the  curtains,  closing  them 
after  him. 

Dick. 
[Piteously.]     Oh,    do   forgive   me,  Clemen'!   do 
overlook  it ! 

[^There  is  the  sound  of  a  cry  from  Lavendeb. 

Lavender. 
[Ore  the  other  side  of  the  curtains.]     Ah,  Clement ! 

Dick. 
lIAsteni/ng.]     Ah !  you'll  forgive  me  now,  Clem- 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  109 

en*,  won't  you  ?  It's  Ruth  who'll  never  forgive  me. 
I'll  hide  from  Euth  !  I  can't  face  Ruth  !  [Tak- 
ing up  the  decanter  and  tumbler  and  crossing  to  the 
door  of  his  bedrooni.']  The  las'  time,  Clemen',  my 
boy  —  the  las'  time  ! 

\_He  stumbles  out,  as  Clement  comes  through 
the  curtains  supporting  Lavender.  He 
places  her  gently  upon  the  sofa. 

Clement. 

\In  a  whisper.']     Dick  —  I  didn't  mean  what  I 
said.     I  — 

Lavender. 

[Opening  her  eyes.]     Clement! 

Clement. 
[Bending  over  her.]     Lavender  ! 

Lavender. 

The  letter  —  the  letter  I  was  writing  to  you ! 
Fetch  it. 

Clement. 
The  letter! 

[He  disappears  through  the  curtain. 

Lavender. 

He  mustn't  find  out  to-night  that  mother  is  taking 
me  away  ! 

[Clement  re-enters  with  the  lett&r. 

Clement. 
Won't  you  give  it  to  me  ? 


no  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Lavender. 
By-and-bye !  by-and-bye  ! 

[He  gives  her  the  letter  —  she  thrusts  it  into 
her  jjocket  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Clement. 

My  poor  little  sweetheart,  are  these  the  red 
cheeks  you  promised  ?  Is  this  how  you  keep  faith 
with  me  ? 

Lavender. 

I  meant  to  keep  faith  with  you  always,  Clement. 

[Covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Clement. 
Ah,  I'm  not  scolding  you.     How  brave  of  you  to 
struggle  up  all  these  stairs  to  ease  my  suspense. 
But  won't  you  say  that  you're  better  —  a  little  bet- 
ter —  for  seeing  me  ? 

Lavender. 

[Falteringly.']  Yes;  I — I —  But  you  startled 
me  so,  Clement ! 

Clement. 

[Putting  his  arm  round  her.]  Why,  what  a  deli- 
cate little  flower  it  is,  and  how  I  shall  have  to  tend 
it  and  nurture  it  all  my  life  ! 

Lavender. 
All  —  your  —  life  !     All  your  life  ! 

[She  takes  his  hand  from  her  shoulder  and 
throws  it  almost  roughly  from  her  —  then 
rises  in  agitation. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  in 

Clement. 
[StaTtledi\     Lavender ! 

Lavender. 

\XJnder  her  breath,  clasping  her  hands^  Mother! 
don't  take  me  away  !     Don't,  don't  take  me  away  ! 

Clement. 
Lavender  !     You're  angry  with  me. 

Lavender. 

[Pointing  to  the  clock.']  No;  but  I'd  forgotten  — 
Mother  is  waiting  for  me.     Good-night,  Clement. 

Clement. 
Ah,  no  —  not  yet. 

Lavender. 

I  must  —  I  —  I  promised.  And,  Clement,  you 
have  been  very  troubled  about  me,  the  few  hours 
we've  been  separated,  haven't  you  ? 

Clement. 
Troubled  !     If  you  only  knew  ! 

Lavender. 

Well,  then,  dear,  I  want  you  to  remember,  if  ever 
we're  parted  again  — 

Clement. 
No  —  not  again,  Lavender. 


112  .     SWEET  LAVENDER 

Lavender. 

I  mean,  if  ever  you  have  to  go  upon  a  journey,  or 
I  — have  —  to  go  — a  journey  —  I  want  you  to  bear 
in  mind  tliat  my  thoughts  are  true  and  faithful  and 
loving  to  you. 

Clement. 

My  sweet  Lavender ! 

Lavender. 

And  though  I'm  a  poor  commonplace  girl,  and 
you're  far  above  me,  my  prayers  for  you  are  just  as 
good  as  any  lady's,  and  tliey  shall  never  cease,  night 
or  morning  —  never,  dear,  never,  not  as  long  as  I 
live.  [^Taking  the  letter  froin  her  pocket,  and  ffivinff 
it  to  him  timidly.']  There's  the  letter  I  wrote  to 
you.  You  must  give  me  your  word  you'll  not  open 
it  till  the  morning. 

Clement. 
I  do  give  you  my  word. 

Lavender. 

Let  me  see  you  hide  it  away  somewhere :  in  the 
next  room,  or  — 

Clement. 

[  With  a  smile.']  Certainly.  I'll  lock  it  up  there. 
[Goinff  to  the  writing-tahle,  arid  inilocking  the  drawer, 
he  puts  the  letter  away,  talking,  while  his  back  is 
turned  towards  Lavender.]  There  !  When  I  open 
this  drawer  to-morrow  these  old  bills  will  have 
doubled  themselves  with  pride.  What  have  they 
done  to  deserve  such  sweet  company  ? 


SWEET  LAVENDER  113 

^Seizing  her  opportunity,  with  a  last  look 
at  Clement,  she  goes  softly  up  to  the 
oilier  door.  As  she  reaches  it  there  is  a 
loud  rat-tat-tat,  and,  with  a  cry,  she 
comes  back  into  the  room. 

Lavender. 

Clement ! 

Clement. 

\_Tuming.']     Hullo!     A  caller  for  Dick,  I  expect. 
Whoever  it  is,  he  doesn't  come  in. 

\_IIe  goes  up  to  the  outer  door  and  opens  it. 
Mr.  Geoffrey  Wedderburn  is  outside. 

Wedderburn. 
\_Heartily.']     Clement,  my  dear  lad  ! 

Clement. 
Father ! 

\_With  a  low  cry.  Lavender  disappears 
through  the  curtain,  as  Wedderburn 
enters,  while  Clement,  having  closed  the 
door,  looks  around  for  her.  Geoffrey 
Wedderburn  is  a  handsome,  well-pre- 
served man  of  about  fifty  with  a  ruddy 
face,  a  bright  cheery  voice  with  a  slight 
burr  in  it,  and  the  air  and  manner  of  a 
prosperous  country  gentleman.  He  is 
dressed  in  tweeds  and  an  ulster,  as  if 
from  a  journey.  He  throws  his  hat  and 
gloves  xipon  the  sofa,  then  turns  to 
Clement  with  open  arms. 


114  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Wedderburn. 

Come  here  !  \Affectionately 7^  Lord,  bow  glad  I 
am  to  see  you ! 

Clement. 

\Taking  his  hand.']  Ah,  father,  now  that  I  hear 
your  kind  voice  1  feel  how  neglectful  I've  been. 
You  look  well. 

Wedderburn. 

Look  well !  Ha,  ha !  \_Playf^dly.'\  I  haven't 
a  little  love  affair  on  hand,  you  villain  ! 

\_Throwing  his  ulster  upon  the  sofa. 

Clement. 
Dad,  you  know  ! 

Wedderburn. 

Know !  All  the  world  knows  when  a  terrible 
chap  like  you  is  in  love. 

Clement. 
[^Embarrassed.']     I  was  going  to  write  to  you  to- 
night. 

Wedderburn. 

Don't  you  trouble  yourself,  Clem.  [Taking  a 
bundle  of  letters  and  papers  from  his  pocket.]  Your 
Aunt  Clara's  telegram  gives  a  few  interesting  par- 
ticulars. 

Clement. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian's  telegram  ! 

Wedderburn. 

Why,  what  dy'e  think  has  brought  me  from  Paris 
in  such  a  deuce  of  a  hurry  —  eh  ? 


SWEE  T  LA  VENDER  1 1 5 

Clement. 
And  you're  not  angry,  father  ? 

Wedderburn. 

Angry.  Now,  have  I  ever  been  angry  with  you, 
my  boy  ? 

Clement, 

No,  dad  —  never. 

Wedderburn. 
No,  and  a  plague  of  a  child  you've  been,  too. 

Clement. 
[^Laughinff.l     Ha,  ha ! 

Wedderburn. 

\_Taking  Clement's  hand  and  looking  into  his 
face.']  But  the  ouly  time  you  really  hurt  me,  Clem, 
was  when  you  had  the  fever  years  ago,  and  I  sat  by 
your  bedside  through  some  dreadful  nights  and  — 
you  didn't  know  me  when  I  spoke  to  you.  Ah, 
Clem! 

Clement. 

\_Putting  his  hand  on  Wedderburn's  shoulder.'] 
Ah,  dad ! 

Wedderburn. 

However,  confound  that !  [Selecting  a  telegram 
from  among  his  letters  and  looking  at  it  through  a 
gold-rimmed  eye-glass.]  And  so  she's  the  daughter 
of  the  laundress  of  these  new  chambers  of  yours,  is 
she,  Clement  ? 


ii6  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Clement. 
{Biting  his  lip.']     Yes,  father,  but  — 

Wedderburn. 
But  she's  very  beautiful,  hey  ? 

Clement. 
She's  very  sweet,  very  good  — 

Wedderburn. 
[Beading  the  telegram.]     Oh,   I  know,  my  dear 
lad  —  I  know. 

Clement. 

Father,  would  you  like  to  see  her —  this  evening? 
[Wedderburn   returns  his  papers  to  his 
pocket  and  rises,  putting  his  arm  round 
Clement's  shoulder. 

Wedderburn. 
Now,  my  dear  Clement,  why  on  earth  should  I 
see  her  ? 

Clement. 

\_Under  his  breath.]     Father! 

Wedderburn. 
Come,  come,  we'll  have  a  bit  of  a  jaunt  together, 
you  and  I.  They  don't  want  me  at  the  bank  — I'm 
only  a  name  there  nowadays ;  but  for  form's  sake 
we'll  run  down  to  Barnchester  in  the  morning,  and 
then  we'll  cut  away  North  and  be  lazy  and  happy. 
Look  sharp  ;  tell  your  man  to  throw  a  few  things 
into  a  portmanteau,  and  c(nne  back  with  me  to  the 
hotel  to-night.  [Taking  up  his  hat  and  coat. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  117 

Clement. 
Dad !      You  —  you    don't    understand.      I    can 
never  leave  here  until  —  Father,  Lavender  is  to  be 
my  wife  ! 

[Wedderburn  stands  for  a  moment  thought- 
fulhj,  then  throws  down  his  hat  and  coat 
and  crosses  to  the  fireplace,  taking  a 
cigar  from  his  cigar-case,  w;7ii7e  Clement 
watches  him. 

Wedderburn. 
Clement,  my  dear  boy,  my  son,  when  I  was  a 
young  man  —  old  enough  to  know  better,  but 
a  young  man  —  I  fell  in  love  with  a  woman  just  as 
enchanting,  I  dare  swear,  as  this  Miss  —  Lavender, 
as  you  call  her. 

Clement. 
Well,  father  ? 

Wedderburn. 
She  was  a  woman  in  humble  life  but  I  loved  her 
—  dearly.     But  just  as  I  was  on  the  point  of  marry- 
ing  her,  Clem,   my  hard,  old-fashioned   common- 
sense  pulled  me  back. 

Clement. 
Ah,  sir  !  —  why  ? 

Wedderburn. 
Why  ?     Why,    my   lady  would   have   been   all 
elbows,  as  we  say,  among  tlie  starched  gentlefolks 
of  Barnchester.     She  would  have  been  mercilessly 
cut  by  the  whole  county,  Clement. 


Ii8                     SWEET  LAVENDER  \ 

I 

( 

Clement. 

Then  confound  the  whole  county,  sir.  j 

"i 

Weddekburn",  I 

Oh,  by  all  means.     But  the  neglect  would  have  | 

soured  her  and  made  me  cross,  and  it  would  have  j 

been  a  damned  wretched  marriage.     Tliat's  all,  my  ' 

boy.      [Taking   Clement's    hand.]     But,  Clem,  it  '. 

nearly  broke  me  up  at  that  time,  and  to  find  some  j 
corner  to  hide  my  love  in,  I  made  a  son  of  the  child 

of  a  dear  dead  schoolfellow  of  mine.  ; 

Clement. 

Sir,  I  can't  ever  repay  you.  : 

Weddekburn. 

Yes,  you  can  —  all  the  payment  I  want  you  can  ' 

make  me  to-night.     What  I  did  for  common-sense  : 

years  ago  you  must  do  for  me  at  this  moment.     So  ; 
put  on  your  hat  and  come  along. 

[  Goes  to  sofa  and  takes  up  coat  and  hat.  \ 

Clement. 

I  —  I  can't,  father.  \ 

Wedderburn. 

[^Sharply.']     You — you  won't,  you  mean  ?  j 

I 

Clement.  ' 

Father!  \ 

Wedderburn.  ; 

She  or  I  —  which  is  it  ? 


S  WEE  T  LA  VENDER  1 1 9 

Clement. 

God  bless  you  for  all  your  goodness  to  me,  sir ; 
but  she  is  to  be  my  wife. 

Dick. 
\_Calling  from    his   room.]      Clemeu',    my    boy! 
Clemen' ! 

Wedderburn. 
What's  that  ? 

Clement. 
[Golnff  towards  the  door  of  Dick's  room.']     Hush, 
Dick! 

\_The  door  opens,  and  Dick  staggers  on, 
flourishing  the  telegram  which  Maw  has 
give7i  hiTn. 

Dick. 

Clemen' !     Look   here !     This   telegram   to   my 
s'licitor !     Look ! 

Clement. 
[Trying  to  silence  him.]     Be  quiet,  Dick !     Mr. 
Wedderburn  ! 

Dick. 
Wedderburn  ! 

Wedderburn. 
May  I  ask  the  name  of  your  friend  ? 

Clement. 
Richard  Phenyl.    We  share  these  rooms  together. 

Wedderburn. 
[Angrily,    to   Dick.]     Then,   sir,   I    congratulate 
you  on  acquiring  the  undivided  companionship  of 


lao  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Mr.  Clement  Hale,  who  can  now  accompany  you  to 
the  gutter  with  all  possible  speed. 

Dick. 
[Indignantly.']     The  gurr'er  ! 

Wedderburn. 

The  gutter,  sir  —  which  I  take  to  be  your  des- 
tination. 

Dick. 

The  gurr'er  !  [Handing  him  the  telegram,]  Then 
we  can  give  you  a  lift,  Mr.  Wedderburn. 

Clement. 
Dick,  be  silent ! 

Wedderburn. 
What's  this  mean?  \_Ta1cing  the  telegram. 

Dick. 

It  means  that  Wedderburn,  Green,  and  Hoskett, 
bankers,  of  Barnchester,  have  s'spended  paymen' ! 
Broke,  sir,  to  atoms  ! 

[There  is  a  knocking  at  the  outer  door. 
Dick  staggers  up  to  it.  Clement  goes 
to  Wedderburn,  ^vho  stands  gazing 
steadily  at  the  telegram. 

Clement. 

Pather !  You  know  better  than  to  believe  this. 
[The  knock  is  repeated.  Wedderburn  is  sile7it.'\ 
Father ! 


SWEET  LAVENDER  121 

[Dick  opens  the  door  and  admits  Mrs.  Gil- 
FiLLiAN,  Minnie,  and  Horacr.  The  two 
former,  seeing  Wedderburn,  go  to  him, 
while  Horace  speaks  rapidly  to  Clement. 
Dick,  leaving  the  door  open,  joins  them,. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Geoffrey ! 

Minnie. 

Uncle !  Uncle !  [Putting  her  arm  round  his 
neck.]  There's  some  dreadful  news  in  the  paper  — 
about  the  bank,  Uncle  Geoffrey. 

Wedderburn. 
The  paper  —  send  for  it ;  let  me  see  it. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Geoffrey,  it  isn't  true. 

Wedderburn. 
[With  an  effort.]  Show  me  —  the  paper.  [Hear- 
ing a  movement,  he  turns  sharply  and  sees  Clement 
reading  from  a  newspaper  which  Horace  holds.] 
You  have  it  there  —  give  it  me.  Mrs.  Gilfillian 
sits  weeping  on  the  sofa;  Minnie  stands  bending 
over  her  consolingly.  Clement  gives  Wedderburn 
the  newspaper.  After  looking  at  the  paper  for  a 
moment,  ^VEDDERBURN,  with  a  groan,  bows  his  head 
upon  the  mantelpiece.  In  a  smothered  voice.]  The 
villains !     Dishonour  !     Dishonour ! 

Euth. 

[Calling softly  outside.]  Lavender!  [She  enters 
hurriedly.]     Lavender !     [To  Clement,  seeing  all 


122  SWEET  LAVENDER 

i?<^  Wedderburn.]     Where  is  she  ?     I  want  —  my 

daughter. 


*o' 


[Clement  disappears  through  the  curtains. 
Wedderburn,    hearing    Ruth's   voice, 
turns,  and  he   and  Ruth  come  face  to 
face. 

Wedderburn. 

[In  a  whisper. '\     Ruth  ! 

\_They  stand  staring  at  each  other.  Lav- 
ender comes  through  the  curtains.  With 
an  effort  Ruth  seizes  her  and  goes  out 
with  her  quickly.  As  they  disappear 
Wedderburn  puts  his  hand  to  his  eyes 
and  staggers,  and  Clement,  re-entering 
at  that  nioment,  catches  him  as  he  drops 
into  the  armchair  fainting. 

Clement. 
Father !    Father ! 


END    OF    THE    SECOND    ACT. 


THE   THIRD   ACT 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  before,  but  the  tim,e  is  a 
week  later. 

Clement,  looking  iveary  and  downhearted,  comes 
from  his  bedroom. 

Clement. 

\As  he  closes  the  door.']     Father,  I  shall  be  with 
you  in  half-an-hour. 

\^He  takes  xip  his  hat,  as  Dick,  improved 
in  appearance,  but  ivithoiit  his  coat,  and 
wearing  a  housemaid' s  apron,  and  carry- 
ing a  long  carpet-broom.,  a  dustpan,  and 
a  hand-broom,  enters  the  room  from  the. 
passage. 

Dick. 
Groing  out,  Clement,  my  boy  ? 

Clement. 
Why,  what  are  you  doing,  Dick  ? 

Dick. 

I've  had  a  fierce,  a  terrible,  altercation  with  Mrs. 

123 


124  SWEET  LAVENDER 

McOstrich,  the  new  woman  downstairs ;  really  a 
disgraceful  row  —  on  her  part  especially.  She  said 
if  I  hadn't  been  a  man,  she'd  have  struck  me.  Oh, 
what  a  change ! 

Clement. 
\_Despondently.'\     Change !     The  house  seems  a 
hundred  years  older,  now  Lavender  has  gone. 

Dick, 

Yes,  and  a  thousand  years  dirtier,  now  Ruth  is 
gone.  [Cheerfulli/.]  However,  poor  Mrs.  Gilfillian 
and  Minnie  sha'n't  be  put  about,  and  so  I  rise  to 
the  occasion.  \_Placing  the  chistpan  and  hand-hroom 
on  the  sofa,  and  proceeding  to  turn  iip  his  shirt- 
sleeves.] I've  an  excellent  notion  of  thorough 
housework,  Clement,  my  boy. 

Clement. 
Dick,  I'm  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  think  what 
a  splendid  chap  you've  been  all  through  this  dread- 
ful week. 

Dick. 

[Good-humouredlg.]  Pooh!  Don't  talk  to  me, 
sir !  I  certainly  did  prepare  Mrs.  Gilfillian's  and 
Minnie's  breakfast  this  morning;  I  don't  deny  that. 

Clement. 
You  I 

Dick. 

My  dear  Clem,  a  man  who  is  on  familiar  terms 
with  every  grill  in  Fleet  Street  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about  cooking.  [Resting  his  broom  against 
the  armchair,  he  takes  up  a  covered  dish  from  the 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  125 

tahle?^  I  don't  wish  to  put  side  on  over  a  few  pal- 
try foolish  kidneys,  but  —  [raising  the  disJi-cover] 
—  confound  it,  they  haven't  looked  at  'em. 

Clement. 

[Iiispecting  the  dish  ivith  Dick.]  I'm  afraid  they 
have,  Dick. 

Dick. 

[Indignantly.']  Of  course !  Go  on  !  Blame, 
blame  —  but  ])raise,  oh,  dear,  no!  [He  takes  up 
the  teajJot,  and  begins  to  sprinkle  the  tea-leaves  on 
the  floor  angrily. \  If  you're  going  out,  I'll  not 
detain  you.     I  am  nervous  when  watched. 

Clement. 

[Not  heeding  him.]  I  have  to  meet  Mr.  Maw  at 
half-past  ten  to  hear  the  result  of  the  meeting  of 
the  bank  creditors  at  Barnchester  yesterday. 

Dick. 
Oh! 

Clement. 

But  the  ship's  hopelessly  aground,  Dick,  and  we 
shall  never  get  her  off  again  — another  bump  or  two 
and  she  breaks  up ;  a  few  spars  float  out  seaward  in 
the  shape  of  poor  ruined  depositors,  and  there's  an 
end.  And  what  an  end  !  Driven  on  to  the  rocks 
by  a  couple  of  rogues  while  the  skipper  is  asleep 
below.     There's  a  moral  in  it  all,  Dick. 

Dick. 

[Sprinkling  the  tea-leaves.]     There  is,  Clement, 


126  SWEET  LAVENDER 

my  boy.     The  moral  will  possibly  assume  the  curt 
and  abbreviated  form  of  sixpence  in  the  pound. 

Clement. 

Ah,  you're  thinking  of  old  Mr.  Vipont's  fortune, 
Dick  —  your  fortune. 

Dick. 
No,  I'm  not !     Don't  be  so  \injust,  Clem. 

Clement. 
You'd  have  been  a  rich  man. 

Dick. 

Clement,  my  boy,  it  would  have  been  the  ruin  of 
me !  There  is  an  appropriateness  about  a  poor 
vagabond,  but  a  wealthy  vagabond  is  an  outrage 
to  society. 

Clement. 

Society  makes  forty  thousand  excuses  for  forty 
thousand  pounds  —  while  it  lasts. 

Dick. 

It  wouldn't  have  lasted.  It  might  have  induced 
me  to  keep  a  cellar.  Don't  be  sorry  for  me,  Clem! 
Be  sorry  for  yourself,  and  for  your  people,  but  not 
for  a  chap  like  me  ! 

Clement. 
[  Wringing  Dick's  hand.']   Bless  you,  Dick !  [Dick 
continues  sprinkling  the  tea-leaves.']     I'll  hurry  back 
with  the  result  of  yesterday's  meeting,  good  or  bad. 

[Clement  goes  to  the  outer  door  where  he 
pauses. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  127 

Dick. 

[Exultinffli/.]  I  think  the  news  will  be  a  little 
better  than  you  expect,  Clement,  my  boy  !  [Sinr/- 
ing,  tvith  a  few  steps  of  a  danceJ]  La-d-diddle  ! 
La-d-diddle !     La-di-diddle-da ! 

Clement. 
[Returning.']     Oh,  Dick  ! 

[Dick  checks  himself  suddenly,  and  comes 
down,  letting  the  tea  ru7i  out  of  the  spout 
of  the  tea.pot. 

Dick. 

[Enquiringly.]     Clement,  my  boy  ?     Oh  ! 

[Replacing  the  teapot  on  the  table  and  tak- 
ing up  the  broom. 

Clement. 

[Taking  a  slip  of  paper  from  his  waistcoat  pocket.] 
I  think  you  ought  to  know  that  I'm  going  to  leave 
this  at  the  newspaper  office  for  insertion  in  to- 
morrow's paper.  [Reading.]  "Sweet  Lavender." 
[Showing  him  the  paper.]  See,  Dick?  The  first 
and  last  letters  —  all  the  rest  stars. 

Dick. 

Very  ingenious. 

Clement. 

[Reading.]  "  R.  P."  (I've  ventured  to  use  your 
initials,  old  fellow.)  "  R.  P.  entreats  his  old  friend 
and  her  daughter  to  communicate  with  him  without 
delay.     R.  P.  is  distracted  at  their  absence." 


128  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 
[Dubiousli/  taking  up  the  long  broom.]     R.  P. 

Clement. 

I  make  you  figure  in  it,  Dick,  to  avoid  distressing 
Mr.  Wedderimrn  while  lie's  ill.  You  see,  nobody 
can  possibly  object  to  ijour  being  distracted. 

Dick. 

No,  no  —  certainly  not. 

Clement. 

Whereas  my  poor  Lavvy  will  understand,  if  ever 
she  sees  this,  that  it's  I  who  am  suffering.  You 
don't  mind,  Dick  ? 

Dick. 

My  boy,  delighted. 

Clement. 

[^Pi'oducing  Lavender's  letter.']  I  read  her  letter 
every  hour  of  the  day.  To  think  that  she  imagined 
my  love  burnt  so  feebly  that  time  or  trouble  could 
blow  it  out ! 

Dick. 

[Sweepifig  7incomfortabI/i/.]     Ah'm ! 

Clement. 

[Indignantly.']  But  it's  so  unlike  her,  Dick.  I 
feel  sure  the  confounded  worldly  philosophy  was 
crammed  into  her  dear  little  head  bv  others. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  129 

Dick. 

\_Sweejping  ivildli/.]     Oh ! 

Clement. 

My  aunt  declares  it  is  all  Mrs.  Bolt's  doing. 
\_Returning  the  letter  to  his  pocket  fiercely. '\  I  hope 
so,  for  if  I  ever  find  out  to  the  contrary  —  [Dick 
sweeps  up  against  Clement  violently.']  Confound 
you,  Dick  !     What  are  you  doing  ? 

Dick. 

You're  hindering  me  !  You're  delaying  the  house- 
work !     Go  out ! 

Clement. 
Don't  be  angry  with  me.     I'm  going. 

[Clement  goes  out. 

Dick. 

[IViping  his  forehead^  Phew!  When  he  breaks 
out  like  that,  I  —  I  always  break  out  like  this.  If 
he  only  suspected  that  I  assisted  at  the  cramming 
of  the  philosophy  ! 

[Mb.  Bulger  co?«es/rom  Clement's  room 
carrying  shaving  paraphernalia. 

Bulger. 
[Very  dejectedly.]      Good-morning,  Mr.  Phenyl. 
I  rather  fancy  as  Mr.  Wedderburn  is  a  trifle  better 
this  morning.     He  demanded  to  be  shaved  up,  sir 
—  always  a  sign  of  vitality  in  a  gentleman. 

[He  goes  to  the  door  of  Dick's  bedroom,  and 
has  his  hand  on  the  handle,  when  Dick 
starts  up  with  a  cry  of  horror. 


I30  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 
Where  are  you  going  ?     Come  back ! 

Bulger. 

Good  gracious,  sir !  I  understood  I  was  to  go 
once  over  Mr.  'Ale's  chin.  I  perrysoom  he  is  shar- 
ing your  room  ? 

Dick. 

Oh,  lor",  Bulger  !  While  Mr.  Wedderburn  is  here, 
nursed  by  his  relatives,  Mr.  Hale  and  I  billet  our- 
selves at  Chorley's  Hotel,  in  Surrey  Street.  We've 
handed  that  room  over  to  jMrs.  Gilfillian  and  her 
daughter.     You  should  be  more  careful,  Bulger. 

Bulger. 

I'm  extremely  sorry ;  though,  at  the  worst,  I 
daresay  as  an  old  family  man,  I  could  have  passed 
it  off  with  a  pleasantry. 

[TAere  is  a  rat-tat  at  the  outer  door. 

Dick. 
The  doctor,  /  know. 

Bulger. 
I'll  go,  sir.     No  noos  of  Mrs.  Rolt,  Mr.  Phenyl  ? 

Dick. 

\_Taking  off  his  apron  and  putting  on  his  coat.'\ 
No,  Bulger. 

Bulger. 

\_Sighing.'\     Ah ! 

[Bulger  opens  the   door  and  admits  Dr. 
Delaney,  then  goes  out. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  131 

Dk.  Delaney. 

[As  he  enters.']  Thank  ye,  thank  ye.  [Shaking 
hands  ivith  Dick.]  It's  Mr.  Phenyl.  And  how's 
our  friend  Wedderburn  this  delightful  morning  ? 

Dick. 

Urn  —  pretty  well  for  a  man  who  appears  to 
grow  a  year  older  every  day. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

You  don't  say  that  ? 

Dick. 

I  do.  It  seems  to  me,  Doctor  Delaney,  that  your 
patient  is  aging  on  the  tobogganing  principle. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[Thoughtfully.']     Ah  —  um ! 

Dick. 

[Enthusiastically.]  But  the  ladies,  doctor  !  They 
come  out  gloriously. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Bless  'em,  they  always  do. 

Dick. 

1  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  aunt  —  Mrs.  Gil- 
fillian.  But  she  seems  to  have  bought  the  good- 
will and  fixtures  of  the  business  formerly  carried 
on  by  Miss  Nightingale. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
My  dear  Mr.  Phenyl,  all  ladies  are  aloike  when 


132  SWEET  LA  PENDER 

trouble  takes  tlieir  hair  a  little  out  of  curl.  It's 
vanity  and  self-oonsciousness  that  spoil  a  woman, 
sir ;  but  when  once  she  says  to  herself,  "  I  don't 
care  a  pin  how  I  look,"  Heaven  takes  care  that  she 
shall  look  like  an  angel.  However,  that's  no  busi- 
ness of  moine.     I'll  see  Wedderburn. 

Dick. 

Oh,  Doctor  Delaney ! 

Dr.  Delanet. 

What  is  it  ? 

Dick. 
Do  you  observe  any  marked  improvement  in  me? 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Ah,  I'm  forgettin'  you  entirely.     [Feeling  Dick's 
pulse.]     What  news  ? 

Dick. 

[In  a  whisper.]  Not  a  drop  for  seven  days. 
That's  a  fearful  drought,  eh  ?  I  hesitate  even  at 
gravy. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

And  how  do  you  feel  ? 

Dick. 
A  little  weak,  doctor  —  a  little  diluted.     But  I'm 
firm. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
Ah,  you'll  do  very  well.     Mind,  now,  don't  think 
about  it — and  take  plenty  of  exercise. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  133 

[Delaxey  raps  at  the  door  leading  to  Clem- 
ent's room  then  opens  it,  and  goes  out. 

Dick. 
Exercise  !  \_Removing  his  coat,  then  seizing  his 
broom  and  sweeping  violently.']  Exercise  !  [  Wip- 
ing his  brow  again.]  Phew  !  This  is  rather  dry 
and  dusty  for  my  complaint.  [^S^veep)ing.']  But 
it's  exercise. 

[Minnie,  dressed  and  simply  ivearing  a  pretty 
white  apron,  comes  from  Dick's  room. 

Minnie. 
Oh,  Mr.  Phenyl,  what  are  you  doing  ? 

Dick. 
\_Panting.']     Making   up   Doctor  Delaney's  pre- 
scription.   Please  return  to  your  room  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  Miss  Giltillian. 

Minnie. 
[_Retreating.'\     Oh,   the   dust !      [Taking  up   the 
hand-broom  and  dustpan  from  the  sofa.]     And  look 
here  ! 

[Dick  siveeps  again.  Mrs.  Gilfillian, 
plainly  dressed  and  without  her  curls, 
comes  from  Clement's  room. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Mercy  on  us  !     What's  this  ? 

[She  throws  open  the  window. 

Minnie. 
[Laughing.]     Mr.  Phenyl  is  sweeping,  mamma. 


1 34  SIVEETLA  VENDER 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Sweeping!     Where's  that  woman  McOstrich? 

Dick. 
I  regret  to  say  that  Mrs.  McOstrich  is  in  a  condi- 
tion of  matutinal  inebriation. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Ugh,  how  horrible ! 

MiKNIE. 

Oh,  ma,  how  shocking ! 

Dick. 

Ah !  ladies,  it  is  far  more  shocking  to  one  who 
may  claim  some  affinity  with  the  misguided  person 
now  occupying  the  basement. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Ah'm! 

Minnie. 

IKindly.']  Oh,  Mr.  Phenyl !  [To  herself .]  Poor 
man! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

But  this  isn't  sweeping,  Mr.  Phenyl  —  this  is 
stirring  up. 

Dick. 

[Pe7iitently.2  No,  Mrs.  Gilfillian,  it  is  sweeping. 
It  is  a  shame-faced  effort  to  sweep  away  a  pecu- 
liarly useless  and  discreditable  career.  It  is  also  an 
attempt  to  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  two  good- 
natured  ladies  —  that  being  the  only  metliod  by 
which  I  can  hope  to  obtain  their  good  opinion. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  135 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Bless  the  man  I     Take  his  broom  away,  Minnie 
—  take  his  broom  away ! 

[Minnie  takes  the  broom  from  Dick  and  goes 
out  with  it. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
I  wonder  if  I  can  guess  what  you  allude  to,  Mr. 

Phenyl. 

Dick. 

\_Resuming   his  coat.]     Ah'm !      I'll    allow    you 
three  guesses,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
On  the  night  we  heard  of  our  misfortune  we  saw 
you  rather  —  at  a  disadvantage. 

Dick. 
Done,  first  time.     I  suppose  I  presented  a  shock- 
ing spectacle. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
H'm !  Well,  that's  a  week  ago,  Mr.  Phenyl. 
Now,  Kome  wasn't  built  in  a  day,  but  you  can  make 
a  new  man  out  of  unpromising  material  in  a  week 
—  and  a  new  woman  too  —  sometimes.  Mr.  Phenyl, 
Vm  not  the  woman  I  was  a  week  ago  —  am  I  ? 

Dick. 
[Hesitating.]     Well  — 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Sharply.]     Am  I,  sir  ? 


136  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 
No. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

I'm  sure  I'm  not.  Now  I've  lost  all  my  money 
by  the  failure  of  the  Barnchester  Bank,  but  some- 
how I've  felt  in  a  kinder  temper  the  last  week  than 
I  have  for  years.  So  I  think,  Mr.  Phenyl,  to  some 
natures  even  bankruptcy  may  be  a  blessing. 

Dick. 

Well,  they  both  begin  with  a  B. 

Mrs.    GrILFILLIAN. 

As  for  you,  my  poor  brother  likes  you  —  says  you 
read  the  paper  to  him  so  intelligently.  \_Holding 
out  her  hand  to  him.~\    And  /like  you.    There,  sir! 

Dick. 

[^Taking  her  hand  gratefully. ~\  My  dear  aunt !  I 
beg  your  pardon  —  my  dear  Mrs.  Giliillian. 

Minnie  enters  carrying  two  dusters. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

So  we'll  forget  a  week  ago,  Mr.  Phenyl,  for  good. 
And  if  at  any  time  you  feel  you  want  —  a  cup  of 
cocoa,  I  know  an  old  nurse  who'll  make  it  for  you. 
\^Taking  a  duster  from  Minnie.]  Come,  child,  let's 
get  rid  of  some  of  Mr.  Phenyl's  dust. 

Dick. 

[To  himself '\  Aunt!  Who'd  have  thought  it  ? 
Aunt !  \_Ther6  is  a  rat-tat-tat  at  the  outer  door. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  137 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

\In  a  whisper.]     We're  not  visible,  Mr.  Phenyl, 
to  anybody. 

Dick. 

[Going. ]     No,  certainly  not. 

Minnie. 
[In  a  whisper.']     We're  out,  Mr.  Phenyl  —  shop- 

Dick. 


pino- 


[Draiving  the  curtain  over  the  opening.]     I  should 
rather  think  you  were. 

Minnie. 

[To  Dick.]     Hush ! 

[Dick  disappears  behind  the  curtain  and 
opens  the  door,  while  Mrs.  Gilfillian 
and  Minnie  stand  listening. 

Dick. 
[At  the  door.]     How  d'ye  do  ?     How  d'ye  do  ? 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[To  Minnie,  in  a  whisper.]     Who  is  it  ? 

Dick. 

[Out  of  sight.]     No  — went  out  shopping  about 
ten  minutes  ago. 

Minnie. 
[To  Mrs.  Gilfillian.]     I  don't  know. 


138  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dick. 

You'll    find  them  both  in  the  Lowther  Arcade. 
Oh! 

\_The  curtain  is  pushed  aside  and  Horacp: 
Bream  enters. 

Horace. 

[As  he  enters.^  Smoke  a  cigar  with  you,  Mr. 
Phenyl,  till  they  return. 

Minnie  and  Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Oh  !  [Minnie  throws  away  her  duster. 

Horace. 

\_Seizing  their  hands.'\  My  dear  Mrs.  Giltilliau  ! 
My  dear  Miss  Gilfillian  ! 

[Dick  returns  much  discomposed,  gesticu- 
lating to  Mrs.  Gilfillian  and  Minnie. 

Dick. 

\_Helplessly.']     Would  come  in ! 

Horace. 

I  am  perfectly  delighted  to  find  that  my  friend 
Phenyl  was  mistaken.  I'm  much  earlier  to-day 
than  usual. 

[Minnie  eniharrassed,  shakes  her  head  at 
Horace. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Earlier  than  usual ! 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  139 

Horace. 

\Not  seeing  Minnie's  signs.']  Yes.  I  invariably 
call  to  inquire  after  Mr.  Wedderburn  during  the 
afternoon. 

Minnie. 

[^Turning  away."]     Oh  ! 

Horace. 
I  shall  be  here  again  this  afternoon. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
I  haven't  heard  of  your  calling  at  all ! 

« 

Minnie. 

\^Confased.']  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  Mr,  Bream  has 
made  the  —  usual  —  inquiries  during  the  week, 
generally  while  you  have  been  resting.  His  cards 
are  somewhere. 

Horace. 

Oh,  yes ;  my  cards  are  somewhere. 

Dr.  Delaney  enters. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Angribj  to  herself,  at  Horace.]     Oh,  this  man ! 
\_She  goes  to  Delaney  and  they  talk  together. 

Minnie. 

^Eyeing  Horace.]  Oh!  now  he  knows  that 
mamma  didn't  know.  \To  Horace  with  dignify.'] 
I    hone,    Mr.    Bream,   that   you   will    forgive   Mr. 


I40  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Plienyl's   lack    of    candour   in     telling    you   that 
mamma  and  I  were  out  shopping. 

Dick. 

\_To  Umsdf.'\     Oh! 

Minnie. 

Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had 
explained  that  we  don't  receive  visitors  at  this 
time  of  trouble  and  anxiety. 

Dick. 

\_Aghast.'\  I  —  why,  you  —  I  mean  —  There 
now. 

Horace. 

\^Su'>'prlsed,  to  Minnie.]  Why,  Minnie  —  \^She 
dratos  herself  up  and  looks  froivningUj.'\  Miss 
Gillillian,  I  never  suspected  that  the  happy  hour 
we  have  passed  together  every  afternoon  this 
week,  has  been  on  my  part  an  intrusion  and  on 
yours  a  — 

Minnie. 

Oh  —  I  —  I've  made  every  excuse  for  you  — 
knowing  that  you're  an  American.  In  trying  to 
avoid  formality,  perhaps  I've  been  a  little  —  a 
little  —  a  little  — 

Horace. 

[Reproachfully.']     Well,  a  little  — 

[Dr.  Delanet  comes  over  to  Minnie. 

Dr.  Del  a  net. 

\_Quietly  to  Minnie.]  I've  a  word  or  two  to  say 
to  Mr.  Phenyl.  I  don't  want  your  dear  mother  to 
hear. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  141 

[Minnie  nods  to  Dk.  Delaney,  and  goes  to 
where  Mks.  Gilfillian  is  sitting. 

Horace. 
[Following,    taps   Dick   on   the   shoulder. 1     Mr. 
Phenyl. 

Dick. 
[Looking  tip."]     Eh  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[Bending  over  him.]  I  faucy  there's  something 
worrying  Mr.  Wedderburn. 

Dick. 
"Well,  I  should  think  so  ! 

Dr.  Delaney. 

What  is  it  ? 

Dick. 

Sixpence  in  the  pound. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Ah,  I  mean  something  not  connected  with  divi- 
dends at  all.  [Braiving  Dick  a  little  nearer.']  Mr. 
Phenyl,  I  hear  that  Wedderburn  has  been  rambling 
a  little  about  the  woman  who  used  to  live  down- 
stairs —  talking  about  her  in  his  sleep. 

Dick. 
Ah,  I  dare  say.     His  boy  is  in  love  with  her 
daughter,  and  that  troubles  him. 

Dr.  Delaney. 
So  Mrs.  Gilfillian  explains.     But,  Mr.  Phenyl, 
doesn't  it  strike  you  as  rather  odd  that  Mr.  Wedder- 


142  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

burn  should  dream  less  of  his  bankruptcy  than  of 
the  \\-omaii  whom  I  hear  he  happened  to  meet  in 
this  room  a  week  ago,  and  who  disappeared  imme- 
diately afterwards  ? 

Dick. 
\Startled.'\     Eh?     Why,  what  — ? 

Dr.  Delanet. 
Be  quiet ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Rising^  Minnie,  I  mustn't  waste  my  time  any 
longer. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[Tuminff  to  the  others.]  One  moment,  one  mo- 
ment !  I've  got  another  patient  here.  Mr.  Phenyl 
has  as  much  right  to  be  ill  as  any  of  ye. 

Dick. 
[To  himself.]     What's  he  driving  at. 

[Mrs.  Gilfillian,  Minnie,  and  Horace 
co7itinue  talking. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Now.  mee  dear  Mi".  Phenyl,  you  have  been 
acquainted  with  this  Mrs.  Rolt  for  many  years. 
Do  you  know  her  history,  sir  ? 

Dick. 

[Agitatedly.]     No  —  yes  —  a  small  portion  of  it. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Thank  ye.  The  small  portion  of  a  woman's  his- 
tory which  she  confides  to  another  is  generally  the 


SWEET  LAVENDER  143 

Index.     Now  may  I  ask  if  tlie  Index  in  your  pos- 
session goes  down  to  the  letter  "  W"  ? 

Dick. 

\Sinking  into  the  armchair  with  his  hand  to  his 
forehead.l  Wedderburn !  Good  gracious !  The 
possibility  never  struck  me  !     Oh ! 

De.  Delaney. 
But  you  perceive  the  possibility  ? 

Dick, 

Don't  pump  me,  Dr.  Delaney,  please  !  Confound 
it,  you  wouldn't  ask  me  to  betray  a  woman's  confi- 
dence, by  even  a  hint ! 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Not  for  the  worrld !  [^Taking  Dick's  hand.] 
Besides,  afther  all,  perhaps  this  is  no  business  of 
moine.  Good-morning,  Mr.  Phenyl.  [To  himself, 
as  he  takes  up  his  hat^  Now,  if  my  theory  is  cor- 
rect I  wonder  if  I  could  contrive  to  do  a  little  good 
to  a  miserable  man  and  an  unhappy  woman  by  a 
bold  stroke  ?  I'm  inclined  for  the  experiment. 
Mrs.  Gilfillian  — 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Yes,  doctor  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[Taking  her  hand.]  I've  been  thinking  I  shall 
have  you  and  your  pretty  daughter  on  my  hands  if 
I  don't  take  better  care  of  ye. 


144  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Mks.  Gilfillian. 

There,  there  —  Minnie  shall  go  into  the  Park 
every  afternoon. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Yes,  and  Minnie's  mamma  too.  And  ?o  I've 
arranged  to  send  ye  one  of  the  dear  good  ladies 
from  my  beautiful  new  Home. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Now,  Doctor  Delaney,  I've  told  you  — 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[Persuasiveli/.']  Ah,  now,  just  to  enable  you  to 
get  the  amount  of  fresh  air  which  every  woman  in 
her  prime  requires. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Well,  do  as  you  like,  doctor. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[^Shaking  hands.'\     I'll  do  that.     Good-morning. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian,  Minnie,  and  Horace. 
Good-morning. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[Goinff  to  Dick.]     But  your  nurse  won't  get  a 
very  cordial  reception  here,  I'm  afraid. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

[To  himself.']  Now  that's  just  the  point  I'm  a 
little  curious  about.  [He  bvstles  out. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  145 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

I'll  go  to  a  Registry  Office  at  once  and  hire  a  handy 
girl,  if  there's  one  in  London.  I  won't  have  that 
degraded  woman  McOstrich  in  these  rooms  again. 
\_Turnlng  slio.rplij,  she  sees  Minnie  and  Horace  close 
together.^     ]Minnie ! 

[Horace  leaves  Minnie  quickly,  and  thrusts 
himself  half  out  of  the  window. 

Minnie. 
Mamma ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

\^Severely.~\  When  Mr.  Bream  has  terminated  his 
visit,  perhaps  in  this  hour  of  emergency  you  will 
remember  there  is  such  a  place  as  the  pantry. 

[Mrs.  Gilfillian  goes  into  Dick's  room, 
ivhich  she  is  now  occupying.  Minnie 
looks  toivards  Horace,  ivhose  body  is  half 
out  of  the  window,  then  at  Dick,  then  at 
her  hands. 

Minnie. 
[^Sighing.']      Washing  up  is  awfully  trying  for 
one's  hands. 

Dick. 

I'll  help  —  shall  I  ? 

Minnie. 
What  a  good-natured  man  you  are,  Mr.  Phenyl! 
I'm  so  sorry  I  scolded  you. 

Dick. 

Delighted. 


146  SIVEET  LA  VENDER 

Minnie. 

But  it  was  quite  necessary  to  read  Mr.  Bream  a 
lesson. 

Dick. 
Oh,  quite. 

MiNNIK. 

But  I  couldn't  think  of  allowing  you  to  assist  to 
wash  up.  I've  got  to  be  domesticated  now,  and  I'd 
better  begin  at  the  degrading  part. 

Dick. 

Well,  look  here  —  let's  halve  it.  One  of  us  will 
wash,  the  other  will  wipe. 

Minnie. 
\_Glancing  towards  Horace,  abstractedly.']     It's 
very  thoughtful  of  you. 

Dick. 

Not  at  all  —  I  take  it  for  exercise.  But  mind, 
I'm  only  an  amateur. 

Minnie, 
Not  letting  anything  drop  is  the  great  secret. 
Which  will  you  do,  wash  or  wipe  ? 

Dick. 

I'll  do  the  wettest —  that  is,  the  wetter  of  the  two. 

Minnie. 

You  are  good-natured  —  but  both  are  equally  un- 
pleasant. 

Dick. 

Let's  flutter  for  who  does  which. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  147 

Minnie. 

Flutter ! 

Dick, 
Toss  up  a  coin. 

Minnie. 

\_Glancing  towards  Horace  —  with  dignity. '\  Oh 
no,  thank  you,  I  couldn't  do  that.  \_Seeing  Hokace 
is  still  leaning  out  of  the  window.'\  Be  quick,  I 
don't  mind. 

Dick. 

\^Producing  a  penny.']  ISTo'v,  then.  Britannia 
washes,  and  the  Queen  wipes.  \_Throwing  up  a 
coiyi,  and  catching  it  smartly  —  to  himself.']  I'm 
really  very  much  better.  [To  Minnie.]  Miss  Gil- 
fillian  —  sudden  death  —  you  cry. 

Minnie. 
What  ? 

Dick. 

\_Solemnly .]     Sudden  death  —  you  cry. 

Minnie. 

Oh,  how  unkind  of  you  to  suggest  such  things 
when  Uncle  Geoffrey  is  so  unwell. 

Dick. 

You  misunderstand  me !  I  mean,  you  guess  — 
head  or  tail. 

Minnie. 
\_With  dignity.]     Oh,  head  please. 

Dick. 
\_Referring  to  his  coin.]     Woman  — you  wash. 


148  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie. 
{Disappointed.']     The  other  is  a  little  drier. 

Dick. 

Very  well,  just  as  you  like. 

Minnie. 

You  are  a  good-natured  man.  \_Looking  towards 
Horace.]  Mr.  Bream  is  oblivious  of  everybody's 
existence. 

Dick. 

{Knowingly.']    He  doesn't  know  that  aunt — that 

Mrs.  Gilfillian  —  has  gone. 

Minnie. 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

I  didn't  tell  tales  about  you,  did  I  ? 

Minnie. 

Really,  Mr.  Phenyl,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  make 
such  inferences.     I  won't  trouble  you,  thank  you. 

{She  goes  out  indignantly. 

Dick. 

[ Calling  after  her.  2Jenitently.  ]  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Miss  Gilfillian.  [Disronsolateh/.']  I'm  always  put- 
ting my  foot  in  it.  {Snatchivg  vp  a  hall  of  wool 
from  the  xvorT^-hasket  on  the  table,  and  hurling  it  at 
Horace's  hack.']  It's  his  fault!  {Following  Min- 
nie.]    Miss  Gilfillian. 

[Dick  goes  out.  Horack  leaves  the  window 
and  picks  tip  the  ball  of  wool. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  149 

Horace. 
Hallo  !  Why,  she  must  have  thrown  this  !  Ah, 
how  playful  she  is  at  times.  I  bear  no  ill-will 
towards  Mrs.  Gilfillian,  but  what  a  gay,  high-spirited 
girl  Minnie  would  be  if  she  were  a  thoroughly 
qualified  orphan.  [Looking  round.']  I  guess  she's 
hiding  around  here  somewhere. 

[Minnie  appears  in  the  passage  opening, 
iviping  a  cup.  She  peeps  into  the  room 
and  comes  face  to  face  with  Horace. 

Horace. 
[Triumphantly  holding  up  the  hall  of  wool.']     Ha ! 
Ha!     You  imagined  I  didn't  see  you  throw  this, 
but  I  did. 

Minnie. 

[Coldly.]     I!     Really.  Mr.  Bream !    Excuse  me, 
I'm  occupied  in  the  pantry. 

Horace. 
May  I  join  you  in  the  pantry  ? 

Minnie. 

Oh,  no,  certainly  not ;    but  if  you'll  wait  here, 
mamma  won't  be  long. 

[She  retires,  drawing  the  curtain  over  the 
opening  in  Horace's  face. 

Horace. 
[Angrily.]    Mamma!    Mamma!     I  am  becoming 
desperate.     I  can't  sleep  —  I  can't  eat  —  I  can't  live 
on  anything  but  hope,  and  this  girl  is  just  starving 
me. 


150  SWEET  LAVENDER 

[^Sitting  disconsolately,  and  looking  up  as 
Minnie  draws  aside  the  curtain  and 
enters. 

Minnie. 

Ah!  [^Demurely.']  Excuse  me,  I've  come  to  fetch 
something. 

\_He  rises.  She  goes  right  round  the  room 
to  the  table. 

Horace. 
Minnie ! 

Minnie. 
Mr.  Bream  ! 

\^She  takes  up  the  tray  with  the  breakfast 
things  —  and  he  intercepts  her. 

Horace. 
I  think  you  are  the  cruellest  girl  in  this  —  old 
country. 

Minnie. 

When  one  meets  reverses  and  becomes  poor,  one 
must  expect  to  lose  the  good  opinion  of  —  friends. 

Horace. 
[^Taking  the  other  side  of  the  tray  and  holding  it 
with  his  hands  over  hers."]      I   don't  call   myself  a 
friend,  Minnie. 

Minnie. 

I  Sarcastically.^  Indeed?  Of  course  one  doesn't 
know  who  are  one's  friends.  Oh,  you  are  hurting 
my  handS;  Mr.  Bream. 

Horace. 

[^Sarnestly.^  You  have  never  permitted  me  to  be 
a  friend.     But  you  know  perfectly  well  I  am  a  — 


SWEET  LAVENDER  151 

Minnie. 

An  acquaintance. 

Horace.  / 

No  —  a  lover. 

Minnie. 
Mr.  Bream  —  sir  ! 

Horace. 

{^Emphatically.']  I  repeat,  a  lover  —  a  lover  — 
a  lover.     There,  I  ve  said  it. 

Minnie, 
Having  said  it,  will  you  allow  me  to  carry  out 
the  tray  ? 

Horace. 

Permit  me  ?  \_IIe  takes  the  tray  and  places  it  n 
the  table.  She  passes  hlrti,  and  is  going  out  when  he 
trims  quickly,  and  taking  her  hand  draws  her  back 
into  the  room.]  That's  not  fair.  You  must  say 
Yes  to-day,  or  —  I  — 

Minnie. 

Or  you  start  for  New  York  next  Saturday  —  I 
know.  You  were  going  to  start  for  New  York  next 
Saturday  when  we  first  met  you,  months  ago,  if  you 
remember. 

Horace. 

Remember !  My  heart  keeps  a  diary  in  red  ink. 
Why  don't  you  like  me,  Minnie  ? 

Minnie. 

How  unjust !  I  like  you  as  much  as  I  can  ever 
like  —  any  foreigner. 

Horace. 
Foreigner ! 


1 52  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie. 

I  am  essentially  English,  you  know. 

Horace. 
Oh,   yes.      The    Wedderburns    were    originally 
Scotch,  I    believe. 

Minnie. 
Yes,  I  know,  but  — 

Horace. 
And  your  father  was  an  Irishman. 

Minnie. 
I  know  —  certainly  —  but  — 

Horace. 

But  you're  essentially  English.  Ah,  don't  make 
this  an  international  question.  If  you  marry  me, 
I'll  wear  Scotch  tweed,  and  you'll  never  find  out 
the  difference  between  — 

Minnie. 
Oh,  thank  you.      I'm  deeply  sensible  of  the  hon- 
our you  pay  me,  but  I  really  could  not  marry  an 
American. 

Horace. 

Why,  you  don't  mind  flirting  with  one. 

Minnie. 
[^Indignantly. 1     Oh  ! 

Horace. 

You  know  you're  a  very  different  girl  on  the 
stairs  while  your  mother  is  asleep  on  this  sofa. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  153 

Minnie. 

And  this  is  my  reward  for  not  disturbing  mamma! 
Only  an  American  would  throw  stairs  in  a  girl's  face. 

Horace. 

Miss  Gilfillian,  you  are  like  the  typical  English 
gentleman  who  says,  ''Give  me  a  home-made 
watch  "  !  Nobody  does  give  it  to  him,  but  he  pays 
sixty  guineas  for  one,  has  his  crest  carved  on  it, 
and  is  borne  down  on  one  side  with  the  weight  of 
it  for  years.  When  it  is  not  being  cleaned,  it  en- 
ables him  to  lose  his  train.  At  last  it  is  stolen 
from  him  in  the  crowd  —  so  he  swears  a  little,  buys 
a  cheap  American  timepiece,  and  lives  happily. 
Miss  Gilfillian,  perhaps  some  day  when  you  have 
won  and  worn  your  home-made  husband  you'll  give 
a  thought  to  the  cheap  but  reliable  American  who 
has  now  the  honour  to  wish  you  good-bye. 

Minnie. 

I  —  I  shall  not  say  good-bye,  or  anything,  after 
such  —  unkindness.  To  —  to  —  to  be  called  a  flirt ! 
A  flirt !     Oh,  dear,  it's  so  hard ! 

\_She  takes  up  the  tray  from  the  table  and 
backs  towards  Horace,  who  suddenly  puts 
his  arm  round  her  waist. 

Horace. 
Ah,  forgive  me ! 

Minnie. 

Forgive  you  !  After  such  a  cruel  charge !  Re- 
move your  arm,  Mr.  Bream  ! 


154  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Horace. 
\Clasping  her  to  him.']     I  can't,  Minnie,  I  can't. 

Minnie. 

And  you  know  I  can't  drop  the  tray.  \_Strug- 
gling  slightly.']  Oh,  how  un-English!  '[^Calling.] 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

[^Outside.]     Yes! 

[Dick  enters  wiping  a  plate,  and  Hobace 
retreats  hastily. 

Minnie. 

Take  this,  dear  Mr.  PhenyL 

Dick. 

[^Taking  the  tray.]     With  pleasure. 

[Minnie  looks  indignantly  at  Horace, 
Mrs.  Gilfillian  enters,  dressed  for 
going  out. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
[^Looking  from  one  to  the  other.]     Minnie  ! 

Minnie. 

\_Embarrassed.]  I  —  I'm  teaching  Mr.  Phenyl 
how  to  wash  up,  mamma. 

Dick. 
[To  himself]     Oh,  I  like  that ! 

[Dick  carries  out  the  tray. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  155 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

\_To  herself P\  That  young  man  still  here.  \To 
Horace.]  Mr.  Bream,  I  shall  be  much  obliged  if 
you'll  give  me  your  arm  across  the  Strand. 

Horace. 

Certainly  !  It  will  be  the  last  opportunity  I  shall 
have  of  rendering  you  even  so  slight  a  service. 

[Minnie  turns,  listening. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Indeed ! 

Horace. 

I  start  for  N'York  —  [emphatically']  —  on  Wed- 
nesday. [Minnie  gives  a  stifled  exclamation. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

We're  very  sorry  —  though,  perhaps,  you  have 
been  wasting  your  time  rather  sadly. 

Horace. 

That  notion  has  just  struck  me.  Please  say  fare- 
well for  me  to  everybody.  [Minnie  looks  at  him 
wistfully.']  And  tell  Mr.  Wedderburn  that  I  have 
called  every  day  this  past  week  \_looking  at  Min- 
nie] solely  to  enquire  after  him. 

[Minnie  retreats  to  the  window-seat. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[^Dubioicsly.']    Um  !    I'm  quite  ready,  Mr.  Bream. 

l_She  goes  out. 


IS6  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Horace. 

[Boivinff  profoundly  to  Minnie.]    Good-bye,  Miss 
Giimiian. 

[_She  rises  with  downcast  eyes,  and  makes 
him  a  stately  courtesy. 

Minnie. 
[/n  a  low  voice.']     Good-bye,  Mr.  Bream. 

\_She  resumes  her  seat,  looking  out  of  the 
window.     He  goes  to  the  door. 

Horace. 

[To   Dick,    shaking    hands.]       Good-bye,     Mr. 
Phenyl :  sha'n't  see  you  again  on  this  side,  sir. 

[^ITe  follows  Mrs.  Gilfillian  ;  Dick  closes 
the  door  after  them. 

Minnie. 

[Tearfully.]     Oh,    I   didn't   mean   it!     I   didn't 
mean  it !     Oh,  come  back,  Horace  !     Horace  ! 

[_She  sits  at  the  writing-table,  and  writes 
rapidly.  Dick  comes  into  the  room, 
polishing  a  teaspoon. 

Dick. 

[Eyeing  Minnie.]     Nice  girl  —  but  I  am  both 
washing  and  wiping. 

Minnie. 

[  Writing.]     "  Never  —  start  —  for  New  York  — 
without  me  —  Horace."    [Rising  with  the  note  in  her 


SWEET  LAVENDER  157 

handr^     Give  me  something  heavy,  to  weight  this  ! 
[^Snatching  the  spoon  from  Dick.]     That'll  do. 

Dick. 

Eh? 

\Sh6  screws  up  the  spoon  in  the  paper  and 
runs  up  to  the  window.'] 

Minnie. 
\^Looking   out   of  the   window.']     Ah !     [Calling 
softly."]     Horace  !  Horace  ! 

\^She  throws  out  the  spoon  and  paper. 

Dick. 
[To  himself]     That  spoon  belonged  to  my  poor 
mother. 

Minnie. 

[  Withdrawing  from  the  window  hastily.]  Oh  ! 
Mamma's  got  it. 

Dick. 

Glad  to  hear  it. 

Minnie. 
Oh,  Mr.  Phenyl,  run  after  Mr.  Bream ! 

Dick. 

[^Catching  up  his  hat.']  Certainly.  [^Giving  her 
the  cloth  he  carries.']  You  go  on  with  the  wiping. 
What  shall  I  say  ? 

Minnie. 

Say  I  want  him  to  inquire  after  Uncle  Geoffrey 
as  usual. 


158  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Dick. 

\Oj>ening  the  door.'\  I  know  —  half-past  three 
on  the  landing. 

Minnie. 

No,  no  !  Mr.  Phenyl !  How  dare  you !  [Dick 
returns,  leaving  the  door  open.'\  You  needn't  go, 
thank  you.  \_Returning  to  the  ivindov>seat.'\  I 
won't  humble  myself !     I  won't ! 

[Lavender  appears  outside  the  door.  She 
peeps  in,  then  comes  into  the  room,  and, 
seeing  Dick,  utters  a  cry  and  advances  to 
him. 

Lavender. 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

[^Embracing  her. '\  Lavvy !  \_Excitedly.'\  Why, 
Lavvy,  where  have  you  come  from  ?  where  are  you 
going  to  ?  what  are  you  doing  ?  where's  your 
mother  ?  Why  don't  you  answer  me,  Lavvy  ? 
Here  —  what  —  oh ! 

Minnie. 

\_Coming  from  the  window.']     Lavender  I 

Lavender, 

\_Going  to  her."]  Oh,  Miss  Gilfillian !  Miss 
Gilfillian ! 

Minnie. 

[^Taking  Lavender  in  her  arms  —  to  Dick.] 
Shut  the  door  !     [Dick  goes  to  the  door  and  closes 


SWEET  LAVENDER  159 

it.  Minnie  places  Lavender  in  the  armchair,  and 
removes  her  hat.']  Oh,  poor  Clement !  How  happy- 
he  will  be  !     How  happy  he  will  be  ! 

Dick. 

[Returning  breathlessly ^^  I  was  about  to  put  a 
question  to  you,  Lavvy.  Where  have  you  come 
from  ?  where  are  you  — 

Minnie. 

Oh,  hush,  Mr.  Phenyl !  Lavender  will  tell  me. 
\_Tenderhj.'\     Where  have  you  come  from,  dear  ? 

Dick. 

My  question  ! 

Lavender. 

\_Faintly.']  I've  come  from  Miss  Morrison's 
School  at  Highgate,  where  mother  took  me  when 
we  left  here.     I  —  I've  run  away,  Miss  Giltillian. 

Dick. 

Eun  away ! 

Minnie. 

Hush,  Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

Yes,  but  run  away  I 

MiNNIB. 

Be  quiet ! 

Dick. 

Run  away. 


i6o  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie. 
Hush! 

Dick. 

Well,  but  —  nin  away.     That's  pretty  serious. 

Lavender. 

I've  seen  a  newspaper  with  something  in  it 
about  a  great  misfortune  happening  to  —  Mr. 
Wedderburn's  bank,  and  how  his  partners  have 
cheated  and  ruined  him.  And  T  know  that,  if  Mr. 
Wedderburn  is  poor,  Mr.  Hale  is  poor ;  and  I  can't 
rest  till  I've  found  out  if  it's  true.  Is  Mr.  Hale 
poor,  Miss  Gilfillian  ? 

Minnie. 

Yes,  we're  all  poor  now,  Lavvy. 

Lavender. 
Oh,  Clement ! 

Minnie. 

Even  I  do  the  work  your  little  hands  used  to  do. 

Dick. 
I  wash  up. 

Minnie. 

Hush,  Mr.  Phenyl,  please. 

Dick. 

But  why  didn't  you  drop  a  line  to  me  quietly, 
Lavvy  ?     There'll  be  awful  trouble  over  this. 

Lavender. 

I  began  a  letter  to  Clement  yesterday,  and  the 
girl  who  lent  me  the  paper  and  the  envelope  told 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  i6i 

Miss  Morrison,  who  scolded  me  dreadfully.  But  I 
got  out  of  the  house.  If  it  had  been  a  prison,  Miss 
Gilfillian,  I  should  have  got  out,  now  that  Mr.  Hale 
is  in  trouble. 

Dick. 

Here's  a  pretty  kettle  o'  fish  !  You  know  you'll 
have  to  be  sent  back,  Lavvy. 

MiXNIE. 

Nothing  of  the  kind. 

Lavender. 
I'll  go  back  when  I've  seen  him  for  five  minutes. 

Minnie. 

[Indig7iantli/.']  Mr.  Phenyl,  you're  positively 
heartless ! 

Dick. 

[Piteousli/.]  Heartless!  /heartless!  You  don't 
know  what  I  know.  I  mean,  I'm  a  man ;  you're 
only  a  couple  of  girls  —  a  girl  and  a  half  I  may  say. 
[  fVith  his  hand  to  his  head.]  Oh  !  where's  Ruth's 
secret  going  to  now ! 

Minnie. 

I  admire  your  spirit,  Lavender,  if  Mr.  Phenyl 
doesn't. 

Lavender. 

Ah,  I've  no  spirit  at  all.  Miss  Gilfillian.  [Minnie 
takes  her  in  her  arms  and  caresses  her.]  But  mother 
hid  me  away  because  I  was  too  poor  and  humble 
for  Mr.  Hale  —  and  so  I  was  a  week  ago.     But  now 


i62  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

everything's  changed,  and  it  would  be  dreadful  if 
he  said  to  himself:  "  Lavender  was  taken  from  me 
because  I  was  rich,  yet  she  can't  find  her  own  way 
back  now  that  I'm  in  need." 

Minnie. 

[^Enthusiastically.']      Clem  shall  hear  that  from 
your  lips  within  an  nour  ! 

Dick. 

[^Sharply.']     No,  he  sha'n't. 

Minnie. 
[Hotly.']     He  shall,  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Lavender. 

Why,  Mr.  Phenyl,  you  used  not  to  be  unkind  to 
me. 

Dick. 

[Falteringly.]     No,  Lavvy,  but  neither  of  us  is 
your  mother.    We  must  always  consult  our  mothers. 

Minnie. 

[Glaring  at  Dick.]      Where   is   your    mother, 
Lavvy  ? 

Dick. 
[Glaring  back  at    Minnie.]      Another   of    my 
questions  ! 

Lavender. 

I  mustn't  tell  anybody — I've  promised. 

Minnie. 

Very  well.     All  you  require  in  this  matter  is  a 
friend. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  163 

Dick. 
[Putting  his  arm   round   Lavender.]     I   quite 
agree  with  you,  Miss  Gilfillian  —  a  friend. 

Minnie. 
[Putting  her  arm  round  Lavender.]    A  protector. 

Dick. 
Yes,  somebody  who  wasn't  born  two  or  three 
weeks  ago. 

Minnie. 

I'm  of  age. 

Dick. 

Well,  look  at  me. 

Minnie. 
But  you're  not  a  woman  ! 

Dick. 

As  it  happens  —  as  it  happens  ! 

[A  gong  hell  is  heard  striking  twice. 

Minnie. 
[To  Dick,  triumphantly.]     Ha  !  ha  !  Uncle  Wed- 
derburn's  bell  —  twice !     It's  for  you  to  read  the 
newspaper. 

Lavender. 
[Frightened.]     Is  Mr.  Wedderburn  here  ? 

Minnie. 
[Gaibj.]     Yes,  we're  all  here.     Run  along,  Mr. 
Phenyl. 


1 64  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dick. 

[Enraged.]  Miss  GilfiHian,  you  will  regret  this 
interference. 

Minnie. 

[  Wifh  her  aryn  round  Lavender's  v^aist,  saucily.] 
Kegret  is  a  woman's  natural  food,  Mr.  Phenyl  — 
she  thrives  on  it. 

Dick. 

Till  it  becomes  remorse,  Miss  Gilfillian. 

Minnie, 
Which  is  only  a  mild  form  of  indigestion. 

Dick. 

[Furiously.]     Oh ! 

[He  goes  into  Clement's  room. 

Minnie. 

[Triumphantly.]  Ha,  ha !  [Assisting  Lavendeb 
to  put  on  her  hat.]     Now  for  poor  Clem. 

Lavender. 
Oh,  yes  —  where  is  he  ? 

Minnie. 

Gone  to  the  lawyer's.  We'll  run  out  and  meet 
him  on  his  way  home,  and  then  we'll  sit  down  in 
the  gardens. 

Lavender, 

What  makes  you  so  kind  ? 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  165 

Minnie. 
A  fellow-feeling.     I'm  unhappy  in  my  love,  too. 

Lavender. 
[Putting  her  arms  round  Minnie's  neck-l     Oh ! 
Tell  me. 

Minnie. 
He's  Mr.  Bream.     I  said  "  No  "  to  him,  and  he 
believed  me,  in  a  foolish  American  way  he  has. 

Lavender. 

Oh,  we  ought  always  to  speak  the  truth.  Why, 
directly  Clement  asked  me,  I  said  "  Yes." 

Minnie. 

Well,  Lavvy,  at  a  big  dinner  the  sweets  are  always 
brought  round  twice,  and  I  thought  —  I  thought  — 
[Whimpering.']     I'm  a  wretched  girl. 

Lavender. 
[Affectionately.']     Don't  cry  !     Don't  cry ! 

Minnie. 
I  forgot  that  if  the  sweets  do  come  round  again, 
other  ladies  have  been  digging  spoons  in. 

Lavender. 
Is  he  far  away  ? 

Minnie. 

Yes  —  he's  in  the  Strand  now. 

Lavender. 
Let  us  go  after  him  with  Clement. 


l66  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

MiNNIK. 

But  wouldn't  that  look  as  if —  ? 

Lavender. 
Yes,  it  would  rather  look  as  if — 

Minnie. 
Oh,  then,  I  couldn't. 

Lavender. 
Yes,  but  if  we  met  him  we  could  walk  past. 

Minnie. 

{^Hugging  Lavender.]     Oh,  you  darling!    I'm 
so  fond  of  you. 

The  door  of  Clement's  rooin  opens,  and  Geoffrey 
Wedderburn  enters,  folloived  by  Dick,  carry- 
ing some  books  and  newspapers  under  hh  arm. 
Wedderburn  looks  much  older  than  before,  his 
hair  being  grey  and  his  voice  and  manner  feeble. 

Minnie. 
[To  Lavender.]     Uncle  Geoffrey  I 

Lavender. 
[CTtn^'in^r  ^0  Minnie.]     Oh! 

Dick. 

[To  himself]     Oh,  dear ! 

[Dick  tvaves  the  girls  away.     Weddeb- 
BURN  walks  slowly. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  167 

Wedderburn. 
[Seeing  Minnie.]     Ah,  Minnie,  my  dear. 

Minnie. 
[Going  to  him.']     Why,  uncle  ! 

Wedderburn. 
[Fatting  her  cheek.']  Ah,  I  can't  submit  to  be 
nursed  and  cosseted  any  longer.  I  —  I  —  shall  go 
down  to  Barnchester  to-morrow  to  face  the  people, 
and  —  and  to  see  about  other  things.  [Seeing 
Lavender.]     Who's  that  young  lady,  my  dear  ? 

Minnie. 

[Bringing   Lavender  /ori^arc?.]      This    is  —  a 
friend  of  mine,  uncle. 

[Wedderburn  holds  out  his  hand.     Lav- 
ender ^w^s  her  hand  in  his,  timidly. 

Wedderburn. 
I'm  very  glad  to  see  Minnie's  friend. 

Lavender. 
[With  a  courtesy.]     Thank  you,  sir. 

Wedderburn. 
I've  been  rather  ill,  my  dear,  but  the  doctor  says 
I  may  go  into  the  gardens  while  the  sun  is  out. 
Will  you  walk  on  one  side  of  me,  with  Minnie  on 
the  other  ? 

Lavender. 
I  —  I  would,  sir  —  if  my  mother  would  let  me. 


1 68  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Weddekburn. 

Your  mamma  will  let  you  if  she's  a  kind  mamma. 
If  not,  I  shall  have  to  put  up  with  Mr.  Richard. 

[Dick  assists  Wedderburn  into  the  arm- 
chair. 

Wedderburn. 

\_Gratefully,  to  Dick.]  And  Mr.  Richard's  a 
dreadful  fellow  —  such  a  bear.  Aren't  you,  Rich- 
ard —  eh  ? 

Minnie. 

[/?i  a  whisper  to  Lavender,  pointing  to  the  door 
of  Dick's  room.']  That's  my  room,  now.  Come 
with  me.  \_The  two  girls  go  out  quietly. 

Dick. 

[To  himself  looking  after  Minnie  and  Laven- 
der.] Girls  will  do  anything.  I  begin  to  have  a 
better  opinion  of  myself,  now  that  I've  mixed  more 
with  girls. 

Wedderburn. 

Now,  then,  Mr.  Richard. 

Dick. 
\_Taking  up  a  newspaper.]   What'll  you  have,  sir ? 

Wedderburn. 

Anything  referring  to  the  failure  of  Wedder- 
burn's  bani.? 


SkVEET  LAVENDER  169 

Dick. 

^Opening  the  paper  uncomfortably.  To  himself. ~\ 
Ahem  !  This  daily  invention  of  favourable  -com- 
ments on  Wedderburn's  neglect  of  his  business 
rather  taxes  my  imagination.     Ready,  sir  ? 

Wedderburn. 
Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Richard. 

Dick. 

H'm  !  [To  himself]  Hallo  !  Here  is  a  short 
leader.  [Reading.']  "It  will  not  be  difficult  to 
find  an  excuse  for  Mr.  Wedderburn's  ignorance  of 
the  affairs  of  the  bank." 

Wedderburn. 
\_Eagerly.]     Ah!     That's  good  —  that's  just. 

Dick. 

\_To  himself]  It  will  be  difficult,  they  say  here. 
Wonderful  what  a  word  does. 

\_There  is  a  rat-tat-tat  at  the  outer  door. 

Dick. 
[^Laying  down  the  paper.]     Excuse  me. 

Wedderburn. 

[To  himself]  It  will  not  be  difficult  to  find  an 
excuse  for  Mr.  Wedderburn  —  an  excuse  for  Mr. 
Wedderburn. 

[Dick  opens  the  door.  Dr.  Delanet  and 
Ruth,  dressed  as  a  nurse,  but  veiled,  are 
otiiside. 


170  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Thank  ye,  Mr.  Phenyl.  Thank  ye.  [Cheerily, 
pointiiKj  to  Weddkkbukn.]  Come,  now,  look  at 
that !  That's  the  sort  of  constitution  that's  the 
ruin  of  my  profession. 

[Dick  closes  the  door.     Ruth  touches  his  arm. 

Ruth. 
\^In  a  whisper. '\     Mr.  Phenyl! 

Dick. 
Ruth! 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Wedderburn,  I've  brought  ye  a  lady  from  my 
new  Home,  just  as  a  companion  for  your  sister  and 
Minnie.     I've  told  ye  about  my  beautiful  Home. 

Wedderburn. 

Thank  3'^ou,  Delaney,  but  I'm  quite  strong  now. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

I  know  that  —  but  it's  you  strong  chaps  that 
require  looking  after.  Think  of  the  ladies  — 
they're  getting  as  white  as  the  ceiling ;  and  poor 
Mr.  Phenyl,  who's  hoarse  with  reading  aloud  to 
you.     Mr.  Phenyl.  \_Beckoni71g  to  Dick. 

Wedderburn. 

[Feebly  to  Ruth.]  I  hope  I  wasn't  discourteous, 
ma'am.  Every  one  is  very  good  to  me  —  very  good 
to  me. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  171 

Ruth. 
[Jti  a  low  voice.']     Mr.  Wedderburn. 

[Wedderburn  starts  and  looks  up. 

Wedderburn. 
\_In  a  whisper.']     Who  is  it  ? 

Ruth. 
Ruth. 

Wedderburn. 
Ruth  — Ruth! 

Ruth. 

I  am  the  nurse  that  Doctor  Delaney  speaks  of. 
Do  you  wish  me  to  remain,  Mr.  Wedderburn  ? 

Wedderburn. 
\_'\¥ith  an  effort,  in  a  low  voice.]     Yes,  Ruth. 

[^He  sinks  back  into  his  chair,  staring  for- 
ward. She  removes  her  bonnet  arhd  cloak. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

^Softly  to  Dick.]  That's  all  right.  [Aloud.']  I'll 
be  with  ye  again  in  ten  minutes,  Wedderburn. 
\Nudrji71g  Dick.]  A  delicate,  but  successful  ex- 
periment. Come,  I'll  tell  ye  how  I  put  the  pieces 
of  the  puzzle  together. 

[Dick  and  Delaney  go  into  the  otJwr  room. 

Ruth. 

If  Mr.  Phenyl  was  reading  to  you  shall  I  take 
his  place  ? 


I7»  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Wedderburn. 

\I'assing  his  hand  across  his  broiv.^  You  are 
merciful  to  me,  Ruth.  You  come  to  me  when  I  am 
ill,  broken,  in  misfortune. 

EUTH. 

It  is  my  calling  now  to  soften  pain,  to  try  to 
banish  suffering. 

Wedderburn. 
But  I  —  I  ruined  your  life  for  you.     Do  you  for- 
get that  ? 

Ruth. 

No  —  I  remember  it.  A  week  ago  I  had  every 
reason  to  fly  from  this  house,  where  I  had  lived 
undisturbed  and  peacefully  for  so  many  years ;  but 
when  the  good  doctor  told  me  you  were  lying  here, 
stricken  down,  I  remembered  —  I  remembered. 

\_C0v6ri71g  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Wedderbubn. 

Ruth,  my  girl. 

Ruth. 

l^Mecoverinrf  herself,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  his 
arm.']  Ah,  I  am  forgetting  why  I  am  here.  The 
doctor  will  scold  me. 

Wedderburn. 

For  what  ?  For  helping  to  ease  my  heart  ? 
Ruth,  I  have  suffered.  I  have  stared  the  world  in 
the  face  as  if  I  were  an  honest  man,  and  bragged 
of  my  shrewdness  and  hard  common-sense.  I  have 
only  been  playing  a  loud  tune  to  drown  my  con- 
science.    I  —  I  have  suffered. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  IT^ 

Ruth. 
Hush,  Mr.  Wedderburn,  hush !     Not  now ! 

Wedderburn, 

Ruth,  I  have  never  forgotten  the  woman  I  be- 
trayed and  broke  my  promise  to,  eighteen  years 
since.  I  have  never  forgotten  the  time  when  you 
asked  me  if  I  was  ashamed  of  the  poor  girl  who 
hung  upon  my  arm  in  the  lanes  about  Barnchester, 
and  the  answer  I  gave  you.  Your  look  of  shame 
and  reproach  as  you  left  me  has  been  always  with 
me,  and  it  was  the  ghost  of  that  look  which  struck 
me  down  here,  a  week  ago. 

\_Burying  his  face  in  his  handkerchief. 

Ruth. 

You've  been  too  hard  upon  yourself,  Mr.  Wedder- 
burn. You  were  right  —  I  was  not  a  fit  wife  for  you. 
And  now  we  are  growing  old !  Forget  it  and  suffer 
no  more. 

\_She  breaks  down  and  leans  her  head  upon 
the  back  of  the  chair,  weeping.'] 

Wedderburn. 
But  why  talk  of  my  sufferings,  Ruth  ?     What 
have  yours  been  ? 

Ruth. 

Less  than  I  deserved  —  because  you  know,  sir, 
Heaven  had  mercy  upon  me,  and  consoled  me. 

Wedderburn. 

Ah !  I  remember.  They  call  you  Mrs.  Rolt  here 
—  you  were  Ruth  Rawdou  at  Barnchester.     You 


174  SWEET  LAVENDER 

are  a  widow,  with  a  daughter  whom  Clement  has 
become  attached  to.     I  remember. 

\_She  goes  hack  a  step  or  two,  staring!  at  him. 

Ruth. 

[Under  her  breath.]  Mr.  Wedderburn  —  I  am 
not  a  widow  —  I  have  never  married. 

Wedderbubn. 

Never  —  married. 

Ruth. 

[  With  a  low  cry.]  Oh,  Mr.  Wedderburn !  I  call 
myself  a  widow  to  keep  my  child  ignorant  of  my 
disgrace.  It  would  kill  me  for  her  to  know.  [In  a 
whisper.li  But  —  Lavender  is  more  than  seventeen 
years  old. 

Wedderburn. 

[Repeating  the  words  to  himself.']  More  than 
seventeen  years  old.  [Looking  at  her  for  a  moment, 
then  stretching  out  his  arms  appealingly.]  Ruth  — 
Ruth!  Tell  me!  [She  slowly  sinks  on  her  knees 
beside  him.] 

Ruth. 

Geoffrey,  I  thought  you  guessed  I  had  been 
faithful  to  my  first  love.  I  took  my  secret  with 
me  from  Barnchester,  because  I  was  too  proud  to 
beg  for  compassion ;  but  when  you  found  mother 
and  child  here,  you  might  have  guessed  the  truth. 
[Turning  away,  weeping.]  Ah,  how  lightly  you've 
always  thought  of  me  ! 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  175 

"Wedderburn, 

[^Taking  her  hand.']  Ruth,  I  am  utterly  bank- 
rupt. I  have  lost  strength,  fortune,  comfort  —  all 
that  makes  age  endurable.  But  what  I've  lost  now 
is  little  compared  to  what  I  flung  away  eighteen 
years  ago  —  the  love  of  a  faithful  woman. 

Lavender  enters  with  Minnie,  both  dressed 
for  going  out. 

Ruth. 
Lavender ! 

Lavender. 

\_Going  to  Ruth.]    Mother,  dear  mother,  don't  be 

angry  with  me  !     Mother  ! 

Wedderburn. 

[J?i  a  whisper  to  himself,  sinking  into  the  arm- 
chair.']    My  child ! 

Clement  enters  hurriedly. 

Minnie. 
[^Running  up  to  him.]     Clement !     Look  here  ! 

[Lavender  goes  to  Clement  and  clings  to 
him. 

Clement. 
Lavender !     Mrs.  Rolt ! 

Lavender. 
Ah,  Clement ! 

Dick  and  Dr.  Delaney  enter. 


176  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Lavender. 

\Fass{onately.'\  Mother  !  I  read  that  Mr.  Hale 
had  become  poor,  and  I  came  here  this  morning  to 
ask  if  it  was  true.  It  is  true !  There's  no  reason 
for  separating  us  now.  Clement,  no  one  shall  take 
me  away  again  if  you  wish  me  to  stay.  I'll  \i  poor 
with  you.  I'll  share  all  your  struggles.  I'll  slave 
for  you,  I'll  be  a  true  patient  companion.  And  if 
ever  you're  rich  again,  and  tire  of  me,  as  they  say 
you  will,  I'll  remember  the  days  when  you  loved 
me,  and  won't  complain — I  promise.  Mother,  you 
mustn't  treat  me  as  a  child  any  longer  —  I'm  a 
woman.  I  can't  go  back  to  Miss  Morrison's  !  I 
won't !  Clement,  keep  me  with  you !  Keep  me 
with  you  !     Keep  me  with  you ! 

\_There  is  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Clement. 
[^Putting  his  arm  round  Aer.]  For  ever.  Lavender, 
for  ever.     Father,  you  hear!     Father! 

[Lavender  sits  in  the  window  recess  with 
Clement,  and  they  are  joined  by  Dick  and 
Dr.  Delaney.  There  is  another  knock  at 
the  door,  Minnie  opens  it,  and  Mrs.  Gil- 
fillian  enters,  followed  by  Horace. 

Minnie. 
Mamma !     Oh,  look  here  ! 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Mrs.  Rolt ! 

Minnie. 

[Seeing  Horace.]     Oh,  Horace  !     Horace  ! 

[She  e7iibraces  Horace  impulsively. 


SWEET  LAVENDER  177 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Good  gracious  me !  "Why,  Mrs.  Rolt,  you're 
surely  not  the  nurse  Doctor  Delaney  promised  us  ? 

Dr.  Delaney. 

\_Going  to  Mrs.  Gilfillian  and  taking  her 
hands.]  Mee  dear  lady,  with  the  acuteness  which 
is  your  characteristic,  you've  hit  it.  Mrs.  Rolt 
came  into  my  beautiful  Home  a  week  ago.  She 
didn't  wish  it  known,  and  it  was  no  business  of 
moiue  to  divulge  it.  But  when  I  wanted  to  pre- 
serve the  roses  in  your  own  cheeks,  ma'am,  it  was 
Mrs.  Rolt  who  volunteered  to  help  in  a  work  for 
which  all  humanity  should  be  grateful. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[To  Ruth,  shaking  ha7ids  with  her.']  Well,  I'm 
sure  I'm  much  obliged  to  Mrs.  Rolt.  \_Looking 
round  and  discovering  Lavender.]  Why,  here's 
your  daughter ! 

Dr.  Delaney. 

Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  we  allow  beautiful  flowers  in  a 
sick  room  —  [^pointing  to  the  window] — if  you 
keep  the  window  open. 

Ruth. 

\_Falteringly.']  I  —  I  did  my  best.  Lavender 
has  been  away  —  at  school. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

But  the  poor  little  thing  chirrups  for  her  mother 
—  hen  and  chick,  ma'am. 


178  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Mrs.  Gilfillian, 

{JDuhlouslyr^  Urn — and  she  follows  you  here. 
A  coincidence. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

\_Stroking  his  chin.']  Coincidences  occur  in  the 
best  regulated  families.  The  most  delightful 
part  of  this  one  is  that  Mrs.  Rolt  happens  to  be  an 
old  acquaintance  of  Mr,  Wedderburn's. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
Old  —  old  acquaintance  ? 

Wedderburn. 

Yes,  Clara,  an  old  acquaintance.  \^He  rises,  sup- 
porting himself  upon  Ruth's  arm.']  Clement  — 
Lavender ! 

E.UTH. 

\_Softly  to  Wedderburn,]  My  secret,  my  se- 
cret !     You'll  not  — 

[Clement  and  Lavender  come  to  them. 

Wedderburn. 

\_Falteringly.']  Clara,  my  dear  boy,  and  you, 
my  dear  girl,  it  is  quite  true.  I  knew  Mrs.  Rolt 
years  ago,  when  she  was  —  unmarried.  This  lady 
did  me  the  honour  to  believe  in  me,  to  love  me, 
until,  very  wisely,  she  perceived  that  I  was  not 
worth  her  devotion  —  and  we  parted.  But,  Clem- 
ent, you  are  wiser,  better,  braver  than  I  was.  Boy 
as  you  are,  you  have  secured  the  prize  I  missed, 
by  discovering  that  the  only  rank  which  elevates  a 


SWEET  LAVENDER  179 

woman  is  that  which  a  gentle  spirit  bestows  upon 
her.  Lavender,  my  dear,  come  here.  [Taking  her 
hand  as  she  comes  to  him  timidly.']  Lavender,  you 
will  be  my  boy's  wife,  so  you  must  try  to  forgive 
my  old  unkiudness  to  your  mother,  and  learn  to 
call  me  father. 

\_He  draws  her  to  him  and  kisses  her.     Then 
Ruth  takes  Lavender  aside. 

Clement. 
[To  Wedderbukn.]     Ah,  dad,  didn't  I  describe 
her  faithfully  ?     Isn't  she  sweet  and  good  ? 

Wedderburn. 
Yes,  Clement ;  but,  Clara,  what  are  we  to  say  to 
Minnie  ? 

Mrs.   Gilfillian. 

{Testily.']  There,  don't  talk  about  Minnie!  I 
wash  ray  hands  of  her  and  everybody  else.  _  It 
appears  I  know  nothing  about  anyone  or  anything. 
I  ought  to  have  been  buried  years  ago.  As  for  my 
daughter,  she  throws  a  letter  out  of  a  window  ad- 
dressed to  a  gentleman  —  it  falls  into  my  hands, 
and  I,  having  left  my  spectacles  at  home,  actually 
ask  that  very  gentleman  to  read  it.  Don't  talk  to 
me,  anybody. 

Minnie. 

Don't  be  sorry  about  me,  Uncle  Geoffrey.  Of 
course,  I've  been  very  fond  of  Clem  for  many  years, 
but  —  I'm  engaged  to  Mr.  Bream,  now. 

Wedderbuen. 
To  Mr.  Bream  ? 


i8o  SWEET  LAVENDER 

Minnie. 
\Looking  toxuards  Horace.]    Horace  !   Advance ! 

Wedderburn. 
And  how  long  has  this  been  going  on  ? 

Horace. 

Well,  it  has  been  going  backwards  and  forwards 
and  all  round  for  some  months,  but  it  has  only- 
been  going  on  for  aboiit  — 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
For  about  ten  minutes  ! 

Horace. 
\To  Dick.]     Mr.  Phenyl.     \_Rehirning  the   tea- 
spoon.']    I   am   eternally   obliged    to    you  —  your 
property,  I  believe. 

Dick. 
Oh,  thank  you.     [Looking  at   the  spoon.']     Bad 
omen !     Dented ! 

[^There's  a  rat-tat  at  the  door.     Clement 
opens  the  door  and  admits  Mr.  Maw. 

Clement. 
Dad,  here's  Mr.  Maw  with  the  news  ! 

Maw. 

\^Breathlessly  going  to  Wedderburn  and  shak- 
ing hands  with  him.]  Mr.  Wedderburn,  I  am 
pleased,  I  am  delighted  to  acquaint  you  with  the 
result  of  the  private  meeting  of  the  creditors  of 
the  Barnchester  Bank.  \_To  Dick,  who  is  walking 
away.]     Ah,  don't  go,  Mr.  Phenyl,  please. 


SWEET  LA  VENDER  i8i 


Dick. 


[^Coming  to  Maw,  uneasily.']  Awfully  busy  — 
back  in  five  minutes. 

Maw. 

\_Holding  his  armJ]  No,  no.  The  principal  cred- 
itors, animated  by  the  example  of  one  of  their  num- 
ber, have  resolved  to  put  Wedderburn's  Bank  upon 
its  legs  again  —  with  every  prospect  of  restoring 
confidence,  sir,  and  discharging  its  old  responsi- 
bilities. 


Mr.  Maw ! 


Wedderburn. 


Maw. 


And  who  do  you  think  has  turned  the  tide  of 
Barnchester  opinion  in  your  favour,  sir  ?  [Pointing 
to  Dick.]  Mr.  Phenyl,  who  has  formally  acquitted 
the  Bank  of  the  liability  of  the  amount  of  the  late 
Mr.  Vipont's  fortune. 

Wedderburn. 

Richard!  [Dick  comes  to  Wedderburn,  who 
takes  his  hand,  and  sinks  back  into  the  armchair. 
Ruth  comes  quickly  to  Wedderburn.] 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

[Throwing  her  arms  round  Dick's  neck.']  Oh, 
Mr.  Phenyl ! 

Dick. 

[  Uncomfortably.]     Thank  you  —  thank  you. 


182  SWEET  LA  VENDER 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 

Oh,  what  a  lot  of  good  there  is  in  you !  \&till 
clinging  to  Dick.]  Be  quiet !  Let  me  have  my 
cry  out. 

Dick. 

[Quietli/  to  Clement.]    Clement,  my  boy —  aunt! 
Clement. 

[To  Lavender.]  What  did  I  always  say  Dick 
was! 

Horace. 

Mr.  Phenyl,  you  are  worthy  of  our  side. 

Minnie. 
[Impulsively  kissing  Dick.]     Dear  Mr.  Phenyl. 

Dick. 

Thank  you  —  thank  you.  [Leading  her  across  to 
Horace.]     I  beg  your  pardon. 

Wedderburn. 

Mr.  Phenyl — ^Richard — you  will  not,  I  hope, 
refuse  to  make  your  home  with  us  at  Barnchester. 
We  live  to  repay  you  for  your  sacrifice,  and  we 
shall  never  cease  to  point  to  you  as  our  best  friend. 

Dick. 

Thank  you,  Mr.  Wedderburn,  but  I've  no  fancy 
for  the  searching  light  of  the  country.  Notwith- 
standing some  slight  moral  repairs,  the  seams  of 
my  coat  are  prematurely  white,  my  character  radi- 
cally out  at  elbow.     If  you  choose  to  continue  my 


SWEET  LAVENDER  183 

aoquaintance,  you  will  find  me  here ;  and  if  you'll 
be  seen  with  me  abroad,  why,  we'll  walk  down 
Fleet  Street. 

Horace. 

I  share  your  devotion  to  this  old  city,  Mr.  Phenyl. 
London  has  given  rae  the  most  fascinating  compan- 
ion. 

Dr.  Delaney. 

London,  sir !  Why,  London  contains  the  largest 
number  of  patients  of  any  civilised  city  in  the  world. 

Mrs.  Gilfillian. 
And  the  best-hearted  doctors  in  the  world. 

Minnie. 

It  is  always  very  full  of  Americans.  \_Putting 
her  hand  in  Horace's.]  And  some  people  like 
Americans. 

"Wedderburn. 

Yes,  yes,  we'll  speak  well  of  London.  For  in 
this  overgrown  tangle  some  flowers  find  strength  to 
raise  their  heads — the  flowers  of  hope  and  atone- 
ment. \_Taking  Ruth's  hand  and  holding  it.  To 
Layender.]     What  do  you  think,  my  child  ? 

Lavender. 

I  think,  sir  —  [going  towards  Clement]  —  what- 
ever Clement  thinks,  always. 

Clement. 
And  I  agree  with  you,  father  —  London  is  a  most 


l84  SWEET  LAVENDER 

beautiful  garden.  [^Taking  Dick's  hand.']  Hasn't 
it  grown  Dick  here  ?  \_Drawing  Lavender  to  him.'] 
And  ah,  dad !  you  can  even  pluck  sweet  Lavender 
in  the  Temple. 


THB  EKD. 


New  Plays  for  Girls'  Schools 

By  Elsie  Fogerty  and  others 

The  following  adaptations  from  standard  plays,  classical  and  modem, 
have  been  specially  arranged  for  amateur  performance  in  girls'  schools. 
The  text  is  accompanied  in  all  cases  by  all  necessary  plates  and  diagrams, 
and  by  full  and  minute  marginal  notes  and  instructions  for  production.  A 
copious  introduction  gives  a  full  description  of  the  stage,  the  lighting,  the 
costumes,  properties,  both  stage  and  hand,  and  answers  in  advance  all 
possible  questions  that  may  come  up  in  the  process  of  rehearsal.  In  all 
respects  they  are  the  most  complete  and  helpful  versions  of  plays  ever 
offered  for  acting. 


The  Alkestls  of  Euripides  The  Antigone  of  Sophocles 

Adapted  by  Elsie  Fogerty  Adapted  by  Elsie  Fogerty 

Nine  characters  and  chorus.  Eleven  characters  and  chorus. 

Plays  an  hour  and  a  half.  Plays  two  hours. 

Firice,  2^  cents  Price,  zj  cents 


Scenes  Prom  the  Qreal  Novelists 

Adapted  by  Elsie  Fogerty 

Scenes  from  The  Abbott,  by  Scott.     "The  Changing  of  the  Keys." 

Seven  characters — plays  forty  minutes. 
Scene   from   The   Mill  on  the  Floss,  by  George  Eliot.     "  Mrs. 

Pullet's  New  Bonnet."     Five  characters — plays  twenty  minutes. 
Scene  from  Adam   Bede,  by  George  Eliot.     "  Mrs.  Poyser  has  her 

Say."     Five  characters — plays  twenty-five  minutes. 

Scene  from  A  Christmas   Carol,  by  Dickens.     "  The  Cratchits' 

Christmas  Dinner."     Eight  characters — plays  forty  minutes. 

Price,  23  cents 

The  Masque  of  Comas  The  Enterprise  of  the  Mayflower 

By  Milton.    Adapted  by  Lucy  Chater  In  Four  Acts,  by  Amice  Macdonell 

Nine  characters  and  chorus.   Plays  For  Children.   Fourteen  characters, 
forty  minutes  ;  with  music.  Plays  an  hour  an  a  half. 

Price,  2S  cents  Price,  2J  cents 


Sent  post-paid  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price 

BAKER,  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Mass. 


Two  New  Prompt  Books 

Edited  by 
GRANVILLE  BARKER 


THE  WINTER'S  TALE 

By  William  Shakespeare 

An  acting  tdU'ion  iv'tth  a  producer' i  preface  by  Granville  Barktr 

With  Costume  Designs  by  Albert  Rothenstein 
As  produced  by  Lillah  McCarthy  at  the  Sa-voy  Theatre,  London 

An  admirable  stage  version  of  this  play  suitable  for  school  performance, 
if  desired,  under  simplified  conditions  as  to  scenery.  Mr.  Rothenstein's 
illustrations  contain  many  helpful  suggestions  as  to  costuming. 

Price,  2J  cents 

TWELFTH  NIGHT 

By  William  Shakespeare 

An  acting  edition  tvith  a  producer'' %  preface  by  Granville  Barker 
With  Illustrations  and  Costume  Designs  by  Norman  Wilkinson 
As  produced  at  the  Savoy  Theatre,  London,  by  Lillah  McCarthy 

Uniform  in  appearance  and  style  with  the  above  and  similarly  helpful 
for  performance  by  amateurs  as  well  as  by  professional  talent. 

Price,  2S  cents 

Mr.  Barker's  "  producer's  prefaces  "  are  a  trial  step  in  the  direction  of 
providing  less  experienced  actors  and  managers  of  the  great  plays  with 
the  results  of  an  expert  consideration  of  them  from  an  acting  standpoint. 
Like  Miss  Fogerty's  admirable  work  in  connection  with  the  five  plays 
listed  elsewhere,  they  are  designed  not  merely  to  answer  the  questions 
that  must  arise  but  to  put  the  inexperienced  producer  into  such  a  relation 
with  the  text  that  his  own  intelligence  will  be  able  to  cope  with  his  prob- 
lem without  help  or  suggestion.  One  learns  how  a  man  like  Mr.  Barker 
approaches  a  play  with  the  idea  of  staging  it,  and  so  how  another  may  do 
the  same  thing.  In  this  they  will  be  seen  to  be  truly  and  genuinely 
educational  as  well  as  merely  helpful. 


Sent  postpaid  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price 

Walter  H.  Baker  &  Co.,  5  Hamilton  Place 

BOSTON,  MASS. 


a,  W,  linnro's  Paps 

$ntt>  so  €tnt$i  OEat^ 


THP  MAAI^TDiTP  Farce  In  Three  Acts.  Twelve  males,  four 
lllC  iIlAUUll\AIL>  females.  Costumes,  modem;  scenery,  all 
interior.    Plays  two  hours  and  a  halt 

TBB  NOTORIODS  MBS.  EBBSMITB  ^^^l^^^l^^. 

Costumes,  modem ;  scenery,  all  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THP  PHflFTMlATF  Pl^y  in  Four  Acts.  Seven  males,  five  females. 
lilC  r&uri4UAXl4  scenery,  three  interiors,  rather  elaborate ; 
oostiunes,  modem.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TBE  SCBOOIMISTRESS  "^S^^^^^-^,^, 

three  interiors.    Flays  a  full  evening. 

TBE  SECOND  MRS.  TANQDERAY  ^^^IT,^^^ 

tumes,  modem ;  scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

SWFFT  I  AVENDER  C°°^®^y  ^  Three  Acts.  Seven  males,  four 
JTTECi  i#ATlrlilll.B    fgmaigg^  Scene,  a  single  interior;  costumes, 

modem.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUP  TIMFS  Comedy  in  Four  Acts.  Six  males,  seven  females. 
*■•"*    l»«*l<»'    H^»Ti«  a  alTiorlnlntftHorf  ftoatniriAs.  modern.     Plavs  a 

full  evening. 


Scene,  a  single  interior;  costumes,  modern.    Plays  a 


TFTF  WFAKFR  SFX    comedy  in  Three  Acts.    Eight  males,  eight 
lUC  nCAHIift  JCA    fgmj^iga.    Costumes,  modem ;  scenery,  two 

interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

A  WIFE  WITBOCT  A  SMILE  "^'Z^^^^:, 

modem ;  scene,  a  single  interior.    Plays  a  full  evening. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

B^alter  %  iBafier  a  Company 

No.  5  Hamiltom  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


teT)LD 


•m 


us 


mi 


NOV  30  1975 
'0  1970 


r.    O    p  ''.'" 


lIKTJn^OW 


%  SEP  3 
'SEP  ' 


JUL  10). 


RECD 


JUN  0  8 1984 


Hi  W 


4 


DEC  2  8  1979 


Form  L9-32m-8,'57(C8680s4)444 

ocui.  ^icpaiu  uu  receipt  ui  puce  oy  I 

l^altet  ^.  'Bafiet  a  Company     1 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts  ! 


■4-llK  LlHK^titfc 


inSIVEKSri  Y  OF  CALIFOBKZl 
LOS  ANGfiJLfiti  ^ 


.■;'r, 
.'U :; 


i^ 


3  1158  00534  1 


84 


iiaiiiii 

/VA    000  374  029    7 


f  * 


